A Friend in Need
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: Post XMA. Sequel to "On a Beach in Cuba" and "Sinister." Following the victory at Muir Island, Charles has, with the help of Erik, set the X-men on a course to try and shut down Dr. Nathaniel Essex's operations. But, as Charles and Moira prepare themselves and her son for the coming of their child, Essex hasn't given up on the fight yet. Charles/Moira Canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

_Everyone can hear me, yes?_ Charles said.

 _Yes Professor._

 _Ja._

 _Got it._

 _Yes._

 _Yeah._

 _Yes Charles._

 _Hell yeah! Kinda weird though. I mean, do you hold conversations with Jean and Kevin like this all the time? Is that why you're always so quiet when I come in? Are you guys talking about me-?_

 _Peter,_ Charles said, rubbing his forehead underneath Cerebro's helmet, _The mission._

 _Yeah, yeah, got it._

Charles sighed, seeing his students in his mind's eye sneak through the halls of the Essex Industries facility. It was just outside of Boston, and it had been using above and beyond its normal energy amount for the past few weeks. And yet, it hadn't been making any deliveries of Essex's usual technology. It had been that way since two weeks after they'd rescued Moira.

It had been Moira herself who had noticed the numbers, scanning the unusual data surges from her room as she recovered. The day after they had returned to the Institute Charles had begun making a catalogue of Essex's holdings. anything with his name on it was added to the list of locations they were keeping an eye on, seeing if they showed up.

Moira had, given her years in surveillance, proved to be the most adept at this. But, her physical condition was still weakened. Even now he'd insisted she be away from Cerebro's cold halls and monitoring the radio chatter around the facility from his room. A phone lay next to him for her to call if she picked up anything unusual.

While she hadn't been as malnourished as Emma, she had certainly suffered from severe side affects. The first night he'd held her without the benefit of her pants, shirt and jacket, wearing a cotton nightdress instead, he'd realized just how much weight she'd lost. Hank had, when asked, told him she'd lost around 15 pounds, over the healthy weight loss for a month. Over the healthy weight loss for a woman carrying a child.

She'd been trying to gain that weight back, with mixed results. There were times that, even with Hank's careful supervision, Charles's incessant worrying, and Moira's own caution and clear head, she ate too much or not the right quantity. It had only been a week or two ago that she'd gotten off IVs at night.

 _Are you approaching the data banks?_ Charles asked.

 _Just about,_ Hank said, _Peter, I need you to move past all that and then disable it so I can come in. Go in fast-  
_

 _Hey, I listened to the briefings just as much as you did. I know what I have to do._

Charles saw Peter take off. A moment later, he felt the alarm blaring. It was what Hank had been afraid of, what he had warned Charles about. They hadn't really had another option though, since Kurt had to be on another level with Jean, surveying information on military contracts and getting into the vaults stored there. Peter had volunteered, and so they had decided to go ahead with the plan.

Apparently, it hadn't worked.

 _Good one "Quicksilver,"_ Raven said.

 _Totally not my fault!_ Peter wailed.

Scott turned the dial on his goggles, blasting the two cameras which had suddenly turned in their direction. Hank rushed forward and began furiously clicking away, taking out a floppy disk. The rest of the X-men took on battle stations as Raven moved toward the security system, hacking it and trying to reroute guards and scramble signals.

The phone went off next to him. He picked it up.

"Radio chatter said the alarm went off next to the project data banks," Moira said, "It looks like they're sending about fifteen guards your way now."

Apparently that hadn't worked either.

"South entrance or north entrance?" he asked, trying to visualize the building.

"South."

He clicked off the phone and, with Cerebro, reached out. He hated using his gifts like this, let alone the machine Hank had built for him to find and help mutants, but he refused to be a passive member in his team. If he must send out his students to fight in the field, he could at least try and assist them.

The guards fell asleep before they were in two hundred yards of where the X-men were. However, he could feel other minds, and his own head was already pounding. This was going to take a while if they didn't get out soon.

 _I have a copy of the new design of what they're making,_ Hank said, _It looks like a collar._

 _The type Emma said she had?_ asked Charles.

 _No. This is...different_ , Hank said, _I'll have to take a closer look at my lab._

 _Fine,_ said Charles, _Marvel, do you have what we need?_

 _Yes_ , Jean replied, _It's...it looks like genetic research. Odd genetic research, but Kurt and I are fine._

 _Good. Quicksilver, Nightcrawler, pull everyone out,_ Charles said.

 _Got it boss man._

 _Ja, of course._

Their minds moved and, by the time the next group of guards got there, the room was empty. A few minutes later, he got the confirming calls that his students were safe and sound in their rooms, although probably a little tired. He wouldn't be surprised if any of them fell asleep in class the next day.

He shut off Cerebro and picked up his phone. As he dialed Moira's number, he placed the clunky helmet back on the control panel. Working long distance like he had was stressful and he couldn't afford to get exhausted. If his students weren't up to going to class tomorrow, he, at least, had to keep up appearances.

"I've got some very frustrated guard chatter up here," Moira said, "I'm guessing they got out."

"Yes," Charles said, "It sounds like it went off successfully, although I'd have preferred it if Essex not know we were there."

He pushed himself out of Cerebro and into the hall.

"He'd have found out sooner or later," replied Moira, "It'll probably mean amped up security at the other facilities, but we don't know if they got a clear shot with the camera. We'll have to talk about it in the morning."

"Perhaps I should look over Hank's data right now," said Charles, getting into the elevator, "He said something about collars, and-"

"Charles, come to bed," Moira said, "You have a school to run you know, and Emma and Laura start classes tomorrow. You're talking to Erik for an update. You have to be up early for one and alert for both. Come to bed."

The elevator dinged and Charles pushed himself out. He clicked off the phone just as he reached his room, pushing the door open. Moira was seated on the bed, already in her night gown, with the phone pressed to her ear. When she saw him, she sighed and put it away. The radio beside her side of the bed was already switched off.

And it truly was her side of the bed. There had been nights for the first two weeks where she'd been in her son's room, in that twin bed that was placed next to him. But, after that, when Kevin had calmed down, she'd gotten her own room. Levine, who had helped smooth over her sudden reappearance with the CIA, had helped transfer her things to the school, and both she and her son were officially moved in.

But it was a room she barely used. Instead, she spent the nights in his arms, and he spent his with his face buried in her hair, his lips near her neck. She'd told him it was warm and comforting, that he acted as a back support.

For him, it was simply knowing she was there.

"It's rude to hang up you know," she said.

"It's rude to talk on the phone when I can do it in person," he replied.

He shrugged out of the sleeves of his bathrobe. It had felt odd to go down to Cerebro in his pajamas while the rest of the team went out in their uniforms, but if anyone saw him in the halls the pajamas would've looked less strange.

Charles maneuvered himself so he was right next to the bed. He started to heave himself onto it, but felt Moira's hands on his shoulders. He let himself be helped onto the mattress, but pulled the covers up himself.

It had been a long time since he'd resented his wheelchair to the degree he did now, and not because Moira was helping him into bed. Morning sickness was part of her daily routine now, and it was unpleasant. She'd admitted that it hadn't been this bad with Kevin. Hank had assured him it was just a lingering effect of her time in captivity, that it would most likely abate after she got more vitamins in her system and her body regained the weight she'd lost.

That had been weeks ago. Hank said a lot of what she was experiencing now was likely to be the actual pregnancy. Since it had been easy to pinpoint the day of the child's conception, they had managed to keep good track of the child's progression.

And right now, they were still causing plenty of stomach problems for their mother. So, almost every morning for the past month and a half since they rescued her, Moira had woken him up fleeing to the small bathroom.

Especially in the beginning Charles had tried to go after her and help, hold her hair away from her face, put a comforting hand on her back. By the time he'd made it into his wheelchair and halfway to the bathroom, she'd already be out.

It made him feel helpless, and she'd quietly told him that she preferred him to remain in bed, keep it warm for when she returned. It was a small comfort. Having her help him into the bed was a slightly smaller humiliation, but one he could contend with.

He laid down, positioning himself so he was on his side. Moira turned off the light and followed suit, snuggling close to him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head as close as he dared.

Softly, Charles planted a kiss behind her ear. It still seemed so strange to be able to glory in the feeling of her there, after so many weeks searching for her. She was safe, unharmed, the flesh was returning to her body, and their child growing daily.

Moira turned and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back gently, trying to restrain herself from deepening it. They did, after all, have school in the morning. When they pulled away, she just smiled at him before turning back so her hair brushed up against his face again.

She let out a long, soft sigh next to him. He would've taken it for a note of contentment, but something was off.

"Something wrong love?" he asked.

"Just a headache," she said, "The guards did a lot of shouting. If they were trained better they wouldn't have had to all speak at once, but it was probably good for us they weren't a perfect military unit."

"I agree with that," he said, "But I could help, if you'd let me."

Moira nodded, and he pushed himself up slightly. One of his hands touched the side of her head. He pressed in slightly, feeling the tense knot of pain in her head. Then, slowly, surely, he soothed it, letting it come undone.

She grinned, and Charles was about to move his hand away when he felt something through their connection. It was like a tap on the shoulder only, if possible, lighter. He would've thought it was something she was trying to say, but it seemed like it was coming from somewhere else.

A single whisper, asking to be recognized.

The grin froze in place on Moira's face, her eyes, like his, drifting down to where her hand rested on her stomach. No. It couldn't be. And yet, Charles felt his heart move into his throat.

"What…what was that…?" he managed.

"I felt the baby Charles," she murmured, "I felt them move. They..."

Her voice ended in a choked laugh. He leaned back down and rested his head on the pillow next to her. His hand moved from her forehead to her stomach, twining with her hand. The flesh of her belly was there now, but the presence of their child was still a secret to most. She wasn't even showing yet.

And yet, what he had felt. That small, soft touch. For a moment, neither of them said anything, each in rapture, focused on the small life that had moved for the first time, announcing their presence.

It seemed incredible. Had it really been a month since she'd been returned to him? Since he had shattered a man in his mental battle ground, screaming that he would never touch those he loved.

Breathing slowly, Charles held her a little closer.

"I love you," he said at last.

"I love you too Charles," she murmured.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And I'm back everyone! I would like to start off this chapter by thanking KarateGirl70 for helping me with some of the pregnancy specifics you'll be reading about in this story. They're a labor and delivery nurse and have been a great help!_


	2. Chapter 2

When the alarm clock went off, Emma awoke in a cold sweat. Her hands had bunched around the sheets, and her head was aching. She'd ground her teeth together in the night. Again.

She peered over her blankets, trying to appear that she didn't feel like she'd just run a marathon. Amanda, groggy, her golden hair going everywhere, reached over and slammed down the button the alarm clock. It was set so she wouldn't be late to classes, and it always seemed to be a trifle louder than either preferred.

It was a normal routine or, at least, a routine that was quickly becoming a big part of Emma's life. Sometimes she would watch as Amanda rolled out of bed and shook Megan awake from the top of the bunk bed. They'd move quietly around the room, Amanda gathering up the clothes she'd lain out the night before for her and Megan.

And, today, she could see Amanda was getting ready to do the same thing. One of her hands was already wiping the sleep from her eyes while the other was groping for her socks. Megan was, no doubt, also putting on her socks on her bunk bed, getting ready, like Amanda, for classes.

The only difference was that, today, Emma would do the same. She sat up, reaching for her tylenol and a hairbrush. Above her, she could hear Laura getting ready. Emma hurriedly dry swallowed and got to her feet. By the time Laura's feet appeared on the ladder, Emma was ready to help her down.

She got up, putting the pill bottle back in her night dresser. Laura sleepily slipped down. Logically, Emma knew Laura could get down herself. She had fantastic reflexes, and keener than usual night vision. However, Emma always felt better helping her to the floor.

She gathered up Laura's clothes, looking around for her barrettes. Had she put them on the dresser or the table?

"Need any help Em?" asked Amanda.

Emma smiled. Over the past month and a half, Amanda had become quite the friend. She was, as Emma had discovered, acting in the role of friend, mentor, mother and sister to the young girl in her charge. She'd seen Megan safely through to America with only minor hiccups at the age of sixteen, and being a human too as a handicap.

Then again, maybe it had been that handicap that had helped. Amanda had been the front, the one people looked at instead of peering closer to see the child with pink hair. She'd used that because, even though she hadn't been blessed with a mutation, she, like Moira, had been blessed with a brain.

But that similarity, her strong protection of Megan, made it difficult to dislike her. Yes, she hadn't gone through as much as Emma had, but, as she had recovered and Laura taught basic skills she'd needed, Amanda had been willing to help.

She'd thought, at first, it would be strange sharing a room with someone, and had been hesitant to agree. And, true, the sound of someone else's breathing in the night was still slightly frightening. Yet, Amanda had understood, in her way.

She'd been kind, but confident, staying some nights with Emma, who sequestered herself, instead of time with Kurt or the others. It had been a kind of comfort, since Amanda was one of the few visitors she would allow besides Moira and the Professor.

Everyone else she treated cautiously, and Laura stayed by her side. Sometimes Emma would watch her, just to make sure she wasn't going to disappear. Kayla was gone, but in every tilt of Laura's head, every smile, Emma could see an echo of her sister.

"Em?"

Emma turned away from Laura and smiled.

"If you could braid Laura's hair maybe?" asked Emma, "I need to start getting dressed, and I think I lost the barrettes."

"Sure thing," Amanda said cheerfully, "And they're on the table."

Emma kissed Laura on the forehead, and then walked out of the room and into the communal bathroom. No one else was up yet: Emma and Amanda got up purposefully early to assist the children in their charge. She splashed water on her face and got a good look at her reflection.

She saw an angular face, the baby fat long since burned away. She saw ring of blisters still healing on her forehead, revealed by her newly-cut bangs, which were stuck up and mussed from sleep. A few faint bruises marred her skin and her too-thin collar bones jutted above the cloth of her nightdress.

Emma coughed and began applying the make-up Amanda had purchased for her on a trip to the store. The Professor had been generous, giving them small monthly allowances which he said they'd earn later by chores around the school. With the right touches, and Emma had practiced, she could hide the bruises. She could fade the blisters. When she brushed her bangs, she would hide them completely.

Her clothes had also been made to hide her emaciated state. She was gaining weight again, but not enough to disguise all of her ribs or the bumps in her spine. Her years in captivity had thinned her down uncomfortably, although the heavy cloth of the fashionable, yet baggy clothes, hid it.

"Em!" Laura said, running into the bathroom, "What do I do?"

She turned and saw that, while Laura had gotten dressed, and Amanda had braided her hair, her shoelaces were untied. Emma smiled quickly and knelt down, lacing her niece's shoes with a deft hand.

But, even after Laura and she were ready, she could feel her stomach flipping knots. She was going to be separated from Laura, on her own. She would be interacting with multiple people her own age all day for the first time since Stryker had ripped her from her home. Emma would be tested by a world she didn't know, and, she was sure, found wanting.

Those thoughts almost made it impossible to eat breakfast. Amanda had, without a word, gotten all four of their meals and brought it outside. It was private there, and Emma listened as Amanda spoke about classes, her voice reassuring and kind.

Emma heard almost none of it. Next to her, Laura listened intently. She was curious, eager to learn, and Emma had the feeling she got that from Kayla. Unlike Emma, who had merely wanted to become a school teacher, Kayla had actually been one.

She was glad Laura felt fine though, because her own feelings were in turmoil. What if she said or did something that revealed the years she'd spent as a slave and a science project? What if saying she was ready had been a mistake? She had only wanted to get back on track, to have Laura start her own schooling. Megan had already started, and Laura had wanted to join her, curious about the downstairs world.

As they walked down the hall, she felt the anxiety intensify. The Professor was waiting there, looking deeply pensive, but happy to see them. Laura's eyes were lit up in curiosity when she looked at the room to her class. Megan gave her a cheery wave before she skipped inside.

"I'll be introducing you in a minute Laura," he said, "And then I'll show your aunt into her classroom."

Laura nodded, excited. Emma's hands trembled at the thought of Laura going off on her own, but she ignored it and kissed her niece on the forehead. The Professor gave her a kind look, and Laura walked to his side. She looked over her shoulder once before she disappeared inside her classroom, waving.

Outside, Emma twisted her hands nervously. Amanda put a hand on her shoulder.

"She's going to be great," said Amanda, "Megan will be there too, and she says she already has some friends. Those friends will become Laura's friends."

Emma nodded, her throat numb. Amanda glanced at a clock on the wall and bit her lip.

"I have to go," she said.

Although Emma had known this was coming, a lump appeared in her throat. They had different classes, but Emma wished Amanda would be there. Amanda was different than other students. She was a refugee. How had she made it so no one noticed? Perhaps Emma should have asked, but that would have been weak.

"I'll be fine," Emma reassured her, "It's just high school."

Amanda gave her a reassuring smile and moved down the hall. Emma resisted the urge to scream after her that she hadn't been to school in three years. The door opened again, and the Professor appeared. Again, that kind look. She wanted to ask how she looked, if he could tell she'd been locked away from the sunshine for as long as she had.

But she remained silent as they moved down the hall, pausing at the door to her classroom.

"You know, you don't have to do this today," the Professor said gently.

She looked at him, her heart in her throat. At first she wondered what had given her away, but then she noticed her hands were trembling again. Emma swallowed her heart, trying to fight the panic and fear slowly taking over.

"If I don't go in now," she said slowly, "I'll be taking a step backward."

The Professor smiled at her, and then he opened the door. And so, terrified, she walked into the room.

Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her. They glittered, and she thought of her mother, beautiful and sparkling, of her own skin, waiting to burst forth. The Professor began to speak, but the words faded away. So did thoughts about her too sharp cheek bones, her pointy shoulders. The worry that her bangs wouldn't be able to hide the blisters on her forehead melted.

She smiled at them, not shy or reserved, but charmingly because, really, they weren't anything to be afraid of. They were nothing, and if they hurt her, she could hurt them back so much worse than they could ever do to her.

Pain? Oh, they didn't have the imagination for real pain, hadn't been introduced to the multitude of shades and variations. She walked between the rows, swaying her hips slightly, remembering how beautiful she'd looked that morning, how beautiful her mother was. We're knives wrapped in silk, her mother had told her once, sharp ones.

If they came at her, she could push them away. The same thing went for anyone who so much as breathed wrong near Laura. Laura was young and innocent, literally seeing the world for the first time. She had known pain, but wouldn't have to inflict it on anyone until she chose. But, in the meantime, Emma would do it for her.

The Professor stopped speaking, and she thanked him. He looked relieved at her sudden confidence, but she knew he wouldn't be if he knew why. No matter. He was a good man, and was trying to help. That was important.

She walked toward the desks, her head held high. Emma saw Scott in the back of the room, giving her an encouraging wave. She waved back, and thought about sitting next to him. There was an empty seat. He had always been kind to her and, in some ways, he understood. Maybe not to the extent Amanda did, and Amanda didn't even understand everything, but he did.

And then she saw Jean. Any warmth she had been nursing suddenly froze over, and she turned her back and slipped into the first seat she could. A few boys near her hastened to introduce themselves, smiling, for what they were worth. She smiled back, said her name, but, for a moment, she could still feel Jean behind her.

Yes, the students around her weren't real threats. All except Jean. She knew what Jean was capable of, had felt that corrosive pain in the depths of her mind. She was someone who could, if she wanted to, kill her. And maybe it wouldn't matter to her.

But Emma would get stronger. She had the work ethic she needed to do so. And then, when the day came when she could be confident of taking Jean in a fight, she could feel safe around the little bitch.

Until then, best just to keep her distance.


	3. Chapter 3

Kevin had been sneaking glances at Laura all morning. Charles and his mom had told him they would be getting a new girl in his class, which wasn't that new of an experience. Megan had arrived, bright and bubbly, around a month ago, and immediately started gravitating toward Xi'an and making friends. Kevin who, true to his word, had put forth an effort to be friends with Xi'an and Sam after his mother returned, was swept away with her.

But it had been the way they'd said he'd be getting a new classmate that had caught his attention. His mother had looked, not concerned, but thoughtful. Charles had been thoughtful too, which had begged the question of what they were thinking about exactly. It was rude to find out the way he wanted to.

And they had explained. It wasn't common knowledge, but Laura and her aunt had come from the same place that had captured his mother. She had, as best as they could figure out, spent her whole life there. Laura's memory was too fuzzy to get exact dates.

They'd told him that to make sure that, in the very least, two people would be sensitive to any difficulties she might have. Megan, they explained, already knew. She wasn't going to tell, and they trusted Kevin not to mention it.

It had, however, made him curious about the girl who'd come into class, her hair pulled back in a French braid. She barely seemed to hear Charles introducing her, her eyes wide and curious. Everything she looked at, it was like she was seeing it for the first time.

Her dark eyes had rested on him for a moment, and she'd smiled uncertainly. Her lips were still tightly clasped around her teeth. He'd smiled back, just to make sure she didn't think he was weird or unfriendly. She held his gaze a little longer than was comfortable though, only breaking away when she was shown her seat.

He had to wait until recess to go up to her, to talk. She seemed normal enough from class but, again, there had been those eyes, that look like everything was something new and different. Had they shown her nothing where she was?

Kevin had sat down, Sam and Xi'an following suit. Megan had grinned, but Laura had just turned those wide eyes on them. He could tell Sam found it disconcerting, but Kevin shrugged it off. If that was the only peculiar thing about her, then it was okay.

"Hi, I'm Kevin," he said.

"Megan told me," Laura answered.

She smiled and looked at him, not saying anything else. Kevin waited, but, when he saw she really wasn't going to continue, he introduced Sam and Xi'an. The two waved and, Laura nodded, still looking at them expectantly.

"So, do you like class?" asked Kevin.

"It smells funny," she said.

He laughed, but Laura turned worried eyes to Megan. Kevin quickly stopped laughing.

"Yeah, nobody puts the caps on the glue," Kevin said hurriedly, "Which makes it smell pretty bad."

"An then we smell pretty bad," said Sam.

"I think you all smell pretty good," said Laura, "Especially Kevin. You smell like paper."

Kevin looked down at his hands, but tried not to frown. Paper? He didn't know exactly what Laura's mutation was but, given his first day of school and how badly that had gone, he decided not to ask.

"So, uh, what can ya do?"

He wanted to smack Sam. Laura looked at Sam and cocked her head.

"It's...difficult to explain," she admitted.

"Maybe ya can show us, if it's safe?" said Sam.

Xi'an elbowed him in the ribs. All it did was make Sam wince and give her a confused loo=ok. _  
_

"I'm not pressuring her," said Sam, "Just askin. Tryin ta be polite. If she says no, I'll drop it."

"Show you?" Laura repeated.

"Ya know, demonstrate," explained Sam.

Fear suddenly lit up Laura's eyes, her face withdrawing. It was subtle, but Kevin could see that her fingers were gripping the table. He thought he saw dents appear, and Megan was turning to her questioningly.

Laura's eyes went from Sam to the plastic eating utensils, the forks and the knives. The sharp things, Kevin realized.

"Or I could show you mine," he blurted.

Her eyes looked at him, some of the fear gone. He smiled and tapped his forehead, his mouth dry. Everyone was looking at him now, and that was uncomfortable. However, they weren't looking at her.

He reached out with his powers, touching all the sharp things on the table. With a quick motion, he made them fly away from Laura and into the trash can. She watched them go and, although it was a small movement, she sagged in relief.

"Kevin, I needed that to eat my corn!" Xi'an snapped.

"Yeah, well, get another one," shrugged Kevin, "I could get it back, but I don't think you'll want it any more."

Irritated, Xi'an got up to get more utensils. Laura breathed out and looked over at Kevin. Her eyes were still wide and curious, but there was a touch of openness there too. She smiled, a smile that was mostly teeth, but still friendly.

* * *

Charles wheeled down to Cerebro for the second time within twelve hours, feeling rather pleased. Emma was doing much better than he'd expected. She'd seemed so frightened outside the room and yet, when the time came, she had sparkled. Perhaps she realized this would be good for her, her and her niece.

He opened the door and punched the calibrations in. Charles was ten minutes behind schedule but, with Hank teaching a class upstairs, he wasn't about to be sloppy when it came to kick-starting Cerebro.

Besides, when he put his helmet on and concentrated, it didn't take long to find who he was looking for.

 _Late._

He smiled softly.

 _Erik, I had a very good reason,_ he said.

 _I bet she had auburn hair._

 _Don't be crass,_ said Charles, _I was taking care of student affairs this morning._

 _Yes, right,_ Erik said, amused, _But how is she? I imagine you didn't let her go out last night with everyone else._

 _Moira and I have discussed this,_ said Charles, _Even if she is a certified code breaker, we can do it long distance._ _The risks, right now, are too great, especially...I...  
_

He closed his eyes, remembering that soft touch.

 _I felt the baby in my mind this morning Erik,_ he said, _I felt them, and Moira said they moved._

Erik was silent for a moment, and Charles delved slightly further into the connection. He could tell that Erik was in Canada, as they had discussed. The precise location was a little more hazy. Was that a hotel room? It certainly looked as though it had seen better days.

Suddenly, Charles got a flash of a dark-haired woman running into the room excitedly, speaking in Polish, her eyes sparkling. He caught the word "quickening," before he withdrew as much as he could.

More silence, but sullen, heavier. Charles was never sure if, during these encounters, Erik knew that he was seeing these things, these memories.

 _I'm happy for you, and I wasn't arguing with the decision for Moira to stay off the battlefield for the time being,_ Erik thought at last, _But I was under the impression we needed to do an update. How did the mission go?  
_

Charles nodded, feeling slightly abashed. While Erik had been only too happy to offer his assistance after they'd rescued Moira, he could tell his friend had good days and bad days when it came to discussing Charles's future child.

Sometimes, he knew his friend was happy for him. Other times, like today, something brought back a specific memory that Charles couldn't help but glimpse. After that, Erik would shut down on the subject entirely.

 _Of course,_ said Charles, _What have you been able to find out on your end?_

 _Stryker's had a base up here in Canada for a long time,_ Erik replied, _Some of the local townsfolk can remember them coming down and getting rip roaring drunk before breaking things and returning. They always slept easier after they left._

 _How many?_

 _The total, for most of the past few years anyway, was five,_ said Erik, _Then, last year, there was a sixth member. A woman. They said she tended to look disgusted when they got drunk and never did anything more than stand in the corner. Some of them thought she was...strange. Never talked to anyone._

A thought occurred to Charles, and he folded his hands.

 _Any confirmation of what she looked like?_ he asked.

 _They didn't have any pictures_ , Erik said, slightly irritated.

 _I was just trying to, well, never mind,_ Charles said.

He thought of Emma, of how she'd said her sister was taken away to be an operative, her own life held as a surety. An image came to him of the Kayla Emma had shown him during a few sessions, leaning up against the wall and looking disdainfully at her team members. While Charles wasn't too sure what she'd been like, to hear Emma talk she'd been perfect, he could imagine she had some of her sister's haughtiness.

 _But no sign of Essex?_

 _None,_ said Erik, _Not even a whisper. I'm starting to think that these two operations were run separately, but some of my contacts have come back with...disturbing stories._

 _Worse than the last ones?_ asked Charles.

He felt a little weary. While Levine was gathering his information on the CIA end, and Moira was moving through her old contacts, Erik had some that they could only dream of. There were still plenty of misguided mutants who would walk through the fire for their martyr.

Not everyone, after all, had agreed with Mystique's decision that day in D.C.

 _I think Stryker was trying to create his own mutant army_ , said Erik, _But he needed a way to control them. I heard something about collars._

 _Yes, collars that can shut off powers,_ Charles said, _Emma's told me about them._

 _No, collars that can shut down a person,_ said Erik.

Charles started at that, and he could hear Erik's frustration, his anger, through their bond.

 _I don't know how they do it,_ he said, _But it's...it sounds like they're developing a low level way to do what you do, or could do, but with collars.  
_

Charles's mind flashed to what Hank had told him last night. He sighed, feeling indignation and anger build up in him.

 _Yes, and I think he might be trying to put them into production,_ said Charles, _Hank said he found some plans for collars in the Boston facility._

 _I don't think they're that far along yet,_ said Erik, _At most, I think they might be testing them._ _And I trust my source._

 _Meaning?_

 _Meaning Stryker's pets are down one member,_ Erik said tartly, _And don't worry: I didn't kill him.  
_

Charles wanted him to elaborate further, the disquiet in his stomach growing, but then the full weight of Erik's words crashed into him.

 _You ran into them?_

Charles couldn't keep the alarm out of their link.

 _Just one of_ _them_ , Erik shrugged, _And Charles, trust me, I could handle them._

 _There's a chance Essex knows you're involved now._

Erik laughed, but the sound was harsh and bitter.

 _And what's that going to do?_

Charles rested one arm on the control board, his head on his hand.

 _Essex is devious,_ he said after a minute, _The collars makes the problem a bit more widespread than we'd originally feared. Now that he knows you're involved, and that we're on to him because, no, we weren't able to get out undetected last night, we've lost a certain element of surprise._

 _We?_ asked Erik, _You're the one who's wasted all this time in prep work._

 _Last time I faced Essex I blundered into victory,_ Charles thought, anger briefly flashing through him, _As much as I would like to say it reflects on the skills of my students, what it really came down to was Emma overcoming her fear and Moira being underestimated by her captors. I won't depend on luck to save us again.  
_

He leaned away from his hand, thinking of that touch he'd felt in his mind.

 _That being said, we need to move,_ he said, _I'd like you to come back to the Institute._

 _What would Moira have to say about that?_

Charles rolled his eyes.

 _She doesn't hate you, you know: she's just a little wary,_ he said, _And, you must admit, you haven't made the best impression on her the few times you two have interacted on any meaningful level._

 _I didn't want to get too close back in the old days,_ smirked Erik, _I didn't know how you would take that._

 _Ha, ha,_ Charles said, the sarcasm coming out sharper than he'd expected.

He swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 _All joking aside now,_ he thought, _We'll need to be careful, but we need you back._

 _Say please._

 _Erik!_

 _Fine,_ Erik said, _I'll be there in three days._


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you done with your homework?" Moira asked.

Her son looked up and nodded, pushing away from his desk. She held up a hand to stop him, and then glanced over at the scattered papers.

"Someone's in a hurry," she said.

"Well, yeah," said Kevin, "It's spaghetti tonight, right? You know how much I love spaghetti."

She raised an eyebrow. Kevin sighed and looked back at his desk.

"So maybe I have five more problems to get through," he admitted.

"And maybe you don't get extra dessert," said Moira.

"Ah, mom!" Kevin said, "It's just five. And I would've been done, but Xi'an said we needed to keep Laura company until her aunt got out of class, so we had to play a game of Clue-"

"Did you cheat while you played?" asked Moira.

"No!" Kevin said, "And I lost too! You can ask anyone!"

Moira put a hand on her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. Kevin watched her movements anxiously. While she knew she was being a bit theatrical, it was at moments like these that could make being a parent an absolute joy.

"I think some leniency might be in order," she said.

His eyes lit up.

"But we'll have to hear what Charles has to say first," she said.

Kevin groaned and Moira motioned for him to follow her. He trudged in line with her, his hands stuck in his pockets. They were just about to go into Charles's office when she gestured to the bathroom.

"Wash your hands first," she said.

Kevin sighed, but dashed off. She watched him go and smiled to herself. Her eyes drifted to the hallway, the wood paneling, the way the carpet softened her footfalls. She closed her eyes for a minute and saw dark, dank halls, footsteps clattering.

"Mom?"

Moira opened her eyes and smiled. One of her hands had clenched into a fist, but it was behind her back. She released it, trying to ignore the cold sweat she felt on her skin. Instead she knocked once, waiting for Charles's all clear before she opened the door.

Soon after she'd returned, they'd started to do what she liked to think of 'family dinners.' While Kevin had gotten the chance to know Charles, this way he could get the idea of the three of them, soon to be four, as a family.

While she wasn't exactly sure how Charles wanted to proceed with their lives, she knew that he wanted to be a big part of them. And, for that to happen, she had to get Kevin accustomed to him, to all of them as a unit.

Kevin smiled at Charles, who was already at the table that had been set inside his office for this purpose. Kevin climbed into a seat, his eyes scanning the pasta. At least he'd taken to the idea of the three of them having dinner every evening well.

"So how was your day at school?" asked Charles, beginning to dish up a plate.

"No, wait a minute," Kevin said as Moira took a seat, "Let me do it. I think I can."

Charles raised an eyebrow, but put the plate down. Kevin looked to Moira for her permission, but she nodded, curious. He grinned at her, and then put out his hands, his eyes narrowed in tight concentration.

The plate lifted, as did the tongs. Moira smiled as the tongs began putting large clumps of spaghetti onto the plate. Kevin set it down in front of Moira, grinning proudly before lifting another plate.

The tongs wobbled this time, but Moira pretended not to notice. By the time Kevin got to the third plate, both it and the tongs were wobbling. Kevin was also looking pained, and Moira gently placed her hand on his arm.

"Kevin, you've done really well," she said, "You don't have to get everyone's plate you know."

"No, I got this," Kevin said, making a face, "I got this. I got-"

The plate fell into the bowl of pasta with a splash of spaghetti sauce. The tongs clattered on the table before falling to the ground. Kevin slumped, looking defeated. Moira put a hand on his shoulder.

"You were really close," she said.

"And Jean tells me that motor skills are the hardest part of this," Charles said.

"Yeah, I guess," Kevin muttered.

Charles smiled and then fished out the plate from the pasta. He put it to one side before picking up a spare and using his fork to pile it high with pasta.

"Kevin, you are very talented with your gifts, whether or not you believe it," he said, "And I've seen more than one telekinetic walk these halls. You have to remember, you only manifested around four months ago. The last person I saw catch on as quick as you was Jean."

Kevin perked up a little.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," Charles said, "Now, how was your day at school?"

Moira smiled at him. It had always been apparent, even when they were young and facing down Shaw, that he would be good with children. And yet, he seemed to have a very special gift when it came to her son.

"I met Laura today, and I think we're friends," said Kevin, "At least, that's what I think. She doesn't talk a lot."

"Laura's had a difficult time," Charles said, stabbing his fork into his pasta and swirling it around, "And it's going to take time for her to adjust."

"I know," Kevin said, "It's just...she got really uncomfortable when Sam asked her to do a 'demonstration' of her gift."

Moira looked up across the table and shared a look with Charles. Laura's descriptions of what she'd been through were, at best, hazy. The logical explanation would be to go through her memories, but, with everything that they didn't know about her weighing down on them, it was unlikely doing so would be a good idea.

Besides, Emma had forbidden it. She was, as Moira had guessed she would be, fiercely protective of her little niece. She had gotten to the point where she could be in a different room, the only thing that had made actual schooling possible, but still.

"And she started getting scared of all the sharp things, so I got rid of them," Kevin said, "Did I...was that okay? I mean, she smiled, but..."

"I think you did just fine," Moira said.

Kevin smiled, and took his first mouthful of spaghetti. He started eating faster, and Moira put out a hand to restrain him.

"Kevin, you'll make yourself sick," she said, "I think you're picking up some eating habits from Peter."

"He can eat a whole pizza, two seconds," Kevin said.

"Yes, but if you try that, you'll choke," said Moira.

She took a mouthful herself. While Kevin had piled her plate high, she knew she was likely only to eat around half of it. She'd been warned, both by Hank and the local doctor, not to eat too much in one sitting. As though she needed to be told that for her second pregnancy.

"Besides, where is Peter getting all this pizza from?" asked Charles.

Kevin's eyes widened, and he hurried to eat another mouthful. Moira and Charles exchanged another look, but this one was full of more mirth. She smiled and looked down at her food, wondering at the young speedster for the millionth time since she'd met him.

 _Moira, after dinner, we need to have a team meeting,_ he said, _About last night. Hank has some news and, well, so do I._

She ate another bite, and looked at him thoughtfully.

 _So...I take it Erik found something,_ she said.

 _Yes,_ said Charles, _And it corresponds to something else. But we're going to have to discuss this._

She nodded and wiped her lips. Next to her, Kevin had finished his plate of pasta.

"Oh, can I have extra dessert?" he asked, "I had five more problems left on my homework, but I was playing a game to keep Laura company. That's okay, right?"

"You should be asking your mother, not me," said Charles.

"Mom says I can if you say it's okay."

For a minute, Charles looked stunned. His eyes slid over to Moira, and she was surprised at the depth of emotion she saw there.

 _You...you told him to...?_

 _He should get used to the two of us making decisions together,_ Moira said.

Charles just looked at her for another moment, and then turned to Kevin, adopting a mock-stern tone.

"Just this once," said Charles.

Kevin grinned and let out a whoop. Yes, Peter was definitely rubbing off on him.

* * *

"How bad was the theft?" asked Stryker.

Essex smothered the look of contempt he wanted to give him.

"Very bad," he said, "While we, of course, have copies of the design, if it was Xavier's people, they will be able to figure out what they are."

Stryker swore under his breath and sat down across from him.

"We need to go after them," he said, "I know where the school is. That's likely where they've taken X-23."

"We've talked about this," said Essex, forcing a reasonable tone, "What you did last time was rash, and they've likely remembered it. If they hadn't already, it's likely they've added security measures since Agent MacTaggert was taken."

"Which you should've talked to me about first," snapped Stryker, "Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused back at headquarters? I had the CIA and her big lug of a partner breathing down my neck for a month. All covert operations had to be cancelled."

Essex couldn't, at the end of the day, decide which was worse: that Stryker was complaining to him, or that he thought Essex cared. Probably the latter. Stryker hadn't outlived his usefulness, but he was preying on his last nerve.

And yet, he was in a worse mood than usual.

"Did something else happen?" asked Essex.

"My men got attacked recently," Stryker said, "One of them is in the hospital now. With a feeding tube."

Well, that was something new.

"They're sure it was Magneto."

Essex gritted his teeth together. So Xavier had reached out to his old friend? Brilliant.

"I'll see him back in that plastic hole for this," said Stryker.

"I don't think you will," said Essex.

"Excuse me?"

Essex felt the urge to rip apart his chair.

"From what you've told me, he's going to be pardoned soon," he said, "They know you hate him, your credit with the Pentagon is likely to be low, and unless you have photographic evidence, then I seriously doubt they'll believe you. Even then, I think that brandishing photos of him attacking your black ops team might not be the best idea."

Stryker swore again, his fingers tapping on the arm chair. Essex leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.

"You know, I had a group of operatives shot to pieces a few weeks ago," he said, "And then, another group one week ago. I thought they were using guns and, since Xavier's people don't...well, what is a bullet but metal?"

A thoughtful look passed over Stryker's face.

"Perhaps. But I'm recalling Creed from South America," said Stryker, "This has gone on far enough."

"With the aim of doing what exactly?" asked Essex.

"Taking down Magneto before he can do more damage," said Stryker, "Xavier might be the more dangerous of the two, but Magneto was traveling alone when this happened. Until he reaches them, he's as vulnerable as he's ever going to be."

Essex nodded again, but it was his turn to be thoughtful. His mind went to the Institute, to the child that was growing there, the one that had been taken from him. He thought of Emma, of X-23. She would be manifesting soon, truly manifesting. And with that would come new options.

If his calculations were correct, and he knew they were, then he could move on that front in a matter of days. That would be enough time to get his other cards into play. It could be a terrible waste to do what he wanted to do, but if Magneto was working with Xavier, then he was marshaling his forces.

And, truly, Essex couldn't let him do that. Not when there was so much more work to do.

"Leave the school to me Stryker," said Essex, startling him, "We have someone on the inside who, I think, won't be able to stop from coming home."


	5. Chapter 5

When Charles and Moira made it to the Danger Room, the rest of the team was already there. Peter had found the initiative to bring down some of his homework and a chair, as well as what Charles recognized as the cookie jar. He rubbed his temples.

"Put it back Peter," he said.

"Aw, come on," Peter said, "Amanda made these, and she uses three types of chocolate. Tastes awesome!"

Kurt's head turned sharply.

"She vas making zhoze for Megan," he said, "Und Laura und Emma. It was their first day."

"Yeah, well, she left 'em on the stove," said Peter, "Fair game."

"Zat is a cookie jar!" Kurt said, pointing.

"Hey, didja think I was gonna carry 'em down here with my bare hands?" asked Peter, "What do you think I am? Some sort of heathen?"

Storm raised her eyebrows, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. However, there wasn't anything amused in Kurt's expression. Charles had already found out about the relationship between his unannounced nephew and the young girl from Germany, as well as Kurt's idea of how a boyfriend to act.

Some might use the term protective, but Charles had a strong suspicion Kurt was trying to base his actions on fairy tales. As far as he knew, Amanda was his first girlfriend, and Kurt's innocence, the way he blushed every time she came near, gave him away.

In short, it was unlikely he was going to let Peter continue to eat cookies she'd made for her roommates.

"Peter, put them back," sighed Charles, "Among the many things wrong with what you've just said, there's no eating in the Danger Room."

Peter frowned, sucking chocolate off his fingers. Kurt's eyes were narrowing further, and Charles was tempted to just slip into Peter's mind and get it over with. Instead, Moira stepped forward, her hands on her hips.

"You do not get to babysit Kevin next time if you don't put those back right away," she said.

"Awwww!"

"He's already picking up way too many of your bad habits," Moira said, "I'm not going to add cookie thief to the count."

Peter grimaced but, a moment later, the cookie jar was gone. The young man returned to his seat, sulking. Kurt grinned to himself and leaned up against the wall, his tail swishing behind him. From her position on the other side of the room, Charles saw Raven smile.

"Now," Hank said, "I finished analyzing the data we got on from Essex's facility. Took all day."

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"By the way, Charles, some of the other teachers are starting to ask how I get so many sick days," he said.

"You have a pre-existing condition," Charles said, waving away the question, "Now, what did you find out about the collars?"

Hank began tapping away at the control panel, and an image appeared on the walls. Charles's eyes followed the blueprints, the scattered numbers and calculations. He glanced over at Hank, who was holding his chin in his hand, trying to pick out the right word.

"Now, the collars seem to be two fold," he said, "The first is, of course, the type of collar they put on Emma. It emits a low-level electric pulse that, for lack of a better phrase, disrupts the body's equilibrium. It can result in some nausea, but is, overall, not harmful to the wearer."

"Tell that to Emma," Scott said.

"I'm talking about physical side-affects," said Hank, sighing, "It does shut down mutations, true enough. However, the thing about these collars is that they also have patches on them."

He clicked in a few more keys and it zoomed up on the design. It did look as though there were panels of some kind of cloth there.

"Now, the cloth is basically a sponge," he said, "The collar responds to a signal, and a type of formula is put onto the skin, where it's absorbed. I'm not quite sure what it's made of, the compound gets hazy even in the facility's notes, but it seems organic in nature."

Charles thought of what Erik had told him, and closed his eyes briefly.

"I don't know what exactly it does, but it seems important that they be able to do it on command," Hank said.

"Erik told me this morning they're trying to develop a way to control people using collars," said Charles, "I suppose we found out where they're trying to produce them."

He rubbed his forehead, and heard, rather than saw, Peter start. When he turned, the young man had broken out of his sulk and his pencils and notebook were on the floor. Charles didn't understand the surprise. He'd told he team that he was in contact with erik, and while there had been a few reservations, mostly on Hank's side, they were used to the idea.

At least, he'd thought they were. And, come to think it, Peter had looked a little strange when he'd first announced he'd gotten in contact with Erik.

"You talked to Erik?" asked Peter, "So, um, when was that?"

"He just said he did it this morning," Scott said, rolling his eyes.

Peter gave him a dirty look, but Charles saw the look Storm flashed his way. It was a concerned one, and one he didn't quite fully understand. As far as he knew, Peter had never actually been attacked by Erik that day in Cairo, and he'd pretty much given Erik a wide berth after the incident.

Charles cleared his throat, still looking at Peter.

"Yes, this morning," he said, "Which brings me to my second piece of news: I've asked Erik to return to the school."

Hank openly gaped at him, and a couple of the team members stared at him, or looked uneasy. Only Storm and Peter looked pleased at the announcement. Raven merely raised her eyebrows.

Charles couldn't see Moira's expression where he was, but he had the feeling she wouldn't be terribly pleased. Perhaps he should have told her this in advance? Then again, when was he supposed to do that? Over the dinner table, with Kevin there? On the elevator ride down?

"He should be here in three days," said Charles.

"That's not a good idea," Hank said.

"We need to start coordinating our attacks," said Charles, "We've had him out in the field, acting as a shadow informant, but we can't afford to do that for too much longer."

"Why not?" asked Raven.

She didn't sound accusing, just curious.

"He got into an altercation with what I believe is the team you fought on Muir Island," Charles said, "He put one of them in the hospital, but the other two are going to report back. He's going to be alone and vulnerable."

"He's managed pretty well so far," said Hank.

"Cold man," Peter said.

"It's true though," said Hank.

There was an edge in Hank's voice, one Charles didn't feel entirely comfortable with. His oldest student was looking at him, not with anger, but exasperation. Charles had always planned on having Erik return to the school to assist them in the final phases. Hadn't Hank understood that?

"Yes, but I don't want Essex and Stryker to catch him alone and have him get taken," said Charles, "And, besides the obvious reasons we'd want him here and out of their clutches, what if they get these collars working? Do you really want to fight him?"

"Yeah, never done that before," Hank muttered.

Charles frowned, the uneasiness inside him growing by the minute.

"You know what I mean Hank," he said.

"Great," said Hank, his voice terse and irritated, "Invite the convicted assassin back to school. Great."

"Hank, we both know he didn't kill Kennedy," said Charles.

"Wait, he didn't kill Kennedy?" asked Peter, grinning, "That is awesome!"

"That's actually news to me too," said Moira, her voice low, "I know the evidence was sketchy, only reason they would consider giving him a pardon in the first place-"

"He's getting pardoned too?" Peter asked, his tone jubilant.

"Nothing's official yet," Moira said.

Hank crossed his arms.

"Charles, having him back after fighting Nur was a risk," he said, "You have to understand that. People were looking for him, and he would've attracted undue attention."

"You were fine when Moira came here," said Raven.

His friend gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

"That was different," he said, "Moira was a CIA agent who, if she went missing for too long, would be called first to make sure she was alright. Erik is a wanted terrorist. They will not call. They will send a tank."

"Which you said our new security system could withstand," said Charles.

"Yes, yes it can," said Hank, "I would just rather not be testing it out so soon."

He could feel the irritation in Hank's voice begin to reach a fever pitch. Storm glanced at Hank, frowning.

"I know that, Erik, if this is what we're calling him, has not always been the most kind," she said, "But...he was hurting when we met. He was a strong man who had been dealt a bitter hand by the world. I have fought beside him and-"

"I have too," Hank said, "And, let me tell you, at the end of the day, he's going to do what he thinks is the best course of action and he's not going to care where the chips fall."

Charles looked at Moira. Her eyes were looking at him, and he saw the same exasperation in Hank's eyes. Surely she understood what he was doing. At the end of the day, Erik was a friend. He had helped them in the end, chosen to do the right thing, just like Charles always knew he would.

Perhaps it was time to remind Hank of that.

"And if you say he helped us once, then yeah, he did," said Hank, startling Charles, "After killing all those people? After everything that happened at D.C., at Cuba?"

"Dude, I do not know what you're on about. Never been outside the country myself," Peter said, "And I know he's not perfect, but he's been helping. And, I mean, aren't we supposed to be about second chances?"

While the sentence had much of Peter's usual cockiness in it, there was something else there too. It was hard to put his finger on it, but he could see Raven cast her worried eyes over the young man. What was going on?

"Peter, I am tired," said Hank, "I am tired of trying to wait for Erik to consistently do the right thing. Last time we hoped he would just help us before Cairo, took him at his word, he tried to kill Raven, and one of our friends ended up in the river. And the time before that..."

He gestured toward Charles, words failing him.

"If you blame him for that," Moira said, tilting her chin at Hank, "Then you have to blame me too."

Her voice was level but sad, and Charles looked at her inarticulately.

 _Moira, love, that wasn't your fault,_ Charles said, _You know I don't blame you for the wheelchair. That was an accident-_

"No, I'm not blaming you," he said, "You didn't start that fight, and I'm tired of taking risks for someone who never appreciates them."

"Hank, please," said Charles, "He's a friend."

"He's your friend, if you call it that. He was never our friend," said Hank, "But I'm not going to stop him coming to the school, if that's what you're worried about. You make the call. I get it."

He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"But I've already lost some people because Erik took his sweet time figuring out who he was and what he wanted to be," said Hank, "And no amount of rebuilt schools or last minute change of hearts is going to bring them back."

"Hank, what-?" Charles began.

"What? What do you mean what? The only reason Nur was here was because Erik let him use the link you established trying to help him!" Hank snapped, "And that was the only reason Alex died!"

"What?" Scott cried.

"Hank!" said Raven.

"It's true and you know it is," Hank spat, "And I am not going to see it happen again. You may still have him from the old days, but I don't have a lot of people left from then! And I'm sick of losing them! You should be too!"

Letting out a hissing noise between his teeth, Hank turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

"Hank!" Charles called.

 _Hank!_

He didn't turn back.


	6. Chapter 6

Moira looked at the group in the Danger Room. Peter looked like someone had suddenly poured a bucket of ice water on him. It was a severe look of shock, of discomfort, but that wasn't dangerous.

What was dangerous was the fact that Scott was looking furiously after Hank, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"What did he mean?" asked Scott.

Charles didn't answer.

"What did he mean!?" demanded Scott.

Moira swallowed hard and walked behind Charles, one hand on his shoulder. He blinked, as though startled back into the room.

"Charles," she murmured.

He glanced at her, and then looked at Scott, who was seemed torn. Jean came up to him, put a quiet hand on his arm, but he shook her off. Instead, his eyes were riveted on Charles, searching for answers.

Just like everyone had looked to him for answers for the past twenty years, probably longer. Moira blinked at the realization, and met Scott's eyes. That look had been the same way in Alex's eyes years ago, in Raven's at one point, Hank's, Sean's, even Erik's. They had all wanted answers to everything from him.

She had been there too, asking him about mutants, trying to improve her case at the CIA. How many questions did he have weighing on him, ones he couldn't answer? But this wasn't a question he could avoid, and it was one he had an answer to.

It was just unpleasant.

"I had established mental contact with Erik," said Charles, "Nur used that to find us, to come for me."

"And Alex went after him," Raven finished, "It didn't go well."

Scott's fists clenched.

"Then Erik can go to hell," he said.

"He had no idea that would happen," said Charles, "He had no idea Alex would take that shot, that the plane was behind the door, that-"

"So what!" snapped Scott.

Peter got up next to him, his legs looking shaky. The more Moira looked at him, the more worried she became. He was obviously struggling with something, but what? And why? As far as she knew, he hadn't had that much contact with Erik.

He'd all but tip-toed around him when they were in Cairo. Admittedly, he'd had a broken leg, so it was difficult to tip-toe, but he'd always been so nervous around him, and then resigned.

"Dude, you can't blame everyone for everything," Peter muttered.

"Yeah, but he shouldn't have brought him here in the first place!" Scott said.

His voice was reaching the level of a shout, and Kurt was shrinking away. Raven's eyes were on him now, closely examining his reaction. Given his body language, Moira suspected it had more to do with the raised voices than anything he was hearing.

And it didn't look like that was going to end anytime soon.

"He knew...and did I get that right?" asked Scott, "He came here and helped Nur kidnap the Professor? I thought you two were supposed to go way back or something!"

"If you're going to blame him, then you should blame me too!" said Storm.

"Did you know what you were getting into with Nur?" snapped Scott, "Really know?"

Storm hesitated. Moira knew the girl wanted to say yes, to defiantly stake a position. But she had to think, because Moira knew that wasn't a question you answered in haste. She wanted to give it due consideration, to remember if, with every death, she had truly expected it.

And, in other circumstances, that would be a good thing. But, at the moment, it was giving Scott an opening.

"So you didn't," he snapped, "I'll bet everything he did!"

"Scott!" Jean said.

She stepped forward, put her hands on each side of his face. He looked at her hands, then back into her face.

"I know what Alex meant to you," she said, "I know you're hurting but, Scott, not like this."

Scott blinked at her for a minute, then put his hands on her wrists. Moira thought that, maybe, he was calming down, but he just gently took them off his face, looking away so he was looking at Charles.

"You don't get it Jean," he said, "I'm sorry, but you don't."

He let go of her hands and took a step toward Charles.

"You told me Alex was one of the best people you knew," he said, "But you're totally cool with letting someone who helped kill him back in?"

"It's not like that," Charles said, "He didn't kill your brother and, when it came down to it, he risked his life for us. And...Scott, everyone deserves a second chance."

Scott gave him a long look, then shook his head and turned.

"Sorry Professor," he said, "But it sounds like you gave him plenty of second chances, and he only came through once."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Scott stormed out of the room. Jean put her hand out, but he dodged it, ducking his head.

"Scott!" Charles said.

It sounded weaker than the call he'd used to beg Hank to come back, more defeated. Jean started to follow, her eyes wide, but Scott shook his head firmly before speeding up. Jean stopped, pained, and Moria bit her lip as Scott disappeared out of the Danger Room.

She took a deep breath, and then turned. The rest of the team was looking at Charles, all except Raven. There was something sharp in her eyes, as though she expected Moira to join in, tell her brother he was making a mistake, push him down further.

And yes, part of her did. Hank's reservations about Erik were her own, and yet...

She put her hand to her forehead, trying to calm down.

"Everyone," she said, "I think we need to go back to the facts. He's on his way. We're going to be working with him. We are in a tight corner, and we need to recognize that."

"What about Scott?" asked Jean, "About Dr. McCoy?"

"We'll...leave that to us," Moira said, "I think we can all agree that this meeting is over."

The teens looked at each other, clearly troubled. Storm averted her gaze before falling in line next to Peter. Again, he wasn't even looking at them. It was like he was locked inside his own thoughts.

Moira watched him go, and then realized Raven was watching Peter too. She raised her eyebrows, and Raven gave a lazy, half-shoulder shrug. It was then that Moira realized that, unlike the rest of the team, she wasn't moving.

"Raven," Moira said.

Raven looked irritated. Was it her use of her first name? Perhaps it was a little presumptuous on her part, but she knew it hurt Charles to see her called Mystique. The two had never really gotten along, but she'd hoped they'd be able to change that, especially with the baby on the way.

But she didn't think it would happen that night.

"Yes?" asked Raven.

"The meeting's over," said Moira.

Raven crossed her arms.

"I need to talk to my brother," she said.

"You could say the same thing for me," said Moira.

"Right," said Raven, "Is it about Erik?"

"Of course it is," said Moira.

Golden eyes regarded her for a minute, and then she snorted.

"Right," she said, "You barely knew him. I don't imagine you're going to be helpful."

Again, she touched her fingertips to her forehead. A headache was starting to throb there.

"Moira?"

She looked over her shoulder. Charles looked up at her, his eyes fixed on her pleadingly. She knew the question even before it came.

"You...you don't think that, do you?" he asked.

In that moment, seeing the pain in his eyes, she wanted to tell him something to soothe that look. She wanted to tell him that he was right, that she didn't have any doubts about Erik. Moira wanted to tell him that he was right in believing what he did, that no part of her thought he was being foolish.

But she wasn't going to lie to him. So, instead, she walked over to him, knelt in front of his chair. Gently, she took one of his hands and put it to her throat. He looked at her questioningly for a moment, and then she guided his fingers so they his traced the path where a necklace might lie.

There was a question on his lips, but she could tell he was trying to figure it out for himself. His eyes suddenly lit up in understanding. It was the same path where dog tags had once almost choked the air out of her lungs, twisted by Erik on a beach where he'd lost his temper.

"I admit," she said, "I find it hard to forget. I...the only thing in my mind was getting to you, to helping, to see how bad you were hurt...and then I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what was happening at first, and then I looked and..."

She shook her head, trying to forget everything that she'd seen that afternoon, everything she'd felt. Her memories of what had happened directly after were hazy, she'd been oxygen deprived, but she remembered the realization that Erik had only let go because Charles had asked. If he hadn't been able to, if the pain had been too much, she would've died.

And they both knew it.

"Moira..." he murmured.

"He didn't even think before he did it," Moira said, "He just, turned, and I saw my death in his eyes."

His fingers traced her neck softer now, weaker. Was he remembering his own fear that day? His own pain. Perhaps it was something that he was afraid of, afraid of drowning in all that had gone wrong.

"But," Moira said.

She reached out and took his hand.

"I let him go in Cairo," she said, "Because...I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if the man I was looking at was the same one who had nearly strangled me on that beach because he wanted to hurt someone. I didn't know and I...I didn't want to get it wrong."

She squeezed his hand.

"But you knew," she said, "For better or for worse, you knew."

Moira looked down at his fingers, trying to find the words.

"I can say that I'm willing to trust that he isn't coming here with the intent to hurt us, that he won't betray us if he can help it," she said, "And...in a practical sense, we'll probably need him."

She felt his fingertips touch her face, and she managed a smile.

"You never stop loving Charles, never stop caring," Moira said, "And I...well, I know some people might call it naive. But, that was what I always loved about you. No matter what happened, you never stopped. And I can't...I can't get mad at you for the thing that made me fall for you in the first place."

Softly, she kissed the back of his hand. Moira held it for a minute longer before getting up.

"And, while, at the end of the day, I don't trust him," she said, "I do trust you. And so do Hank and Scott. You just need to give them time to think, maybe talk to them."

She was almost fully standing before Charles reached out and gripped her shoulder. She looked at him, surprised, before he pulled her closer and kissed her. Moira gasped softly, but returned the kiss, one of her hands resting on his cheek.

 _I love you, I love you so much,_ he said, _And...thank you for understanding._

 _I love you too,_ she murmured.

He released her again, and she managed another smile.

"I think I have to go put Kevin to bed," she said, "I'll see you soon?"

"Yes, of course," Charles said.

She nodded, and headed for the door. Raven gave her a side look as she went by.

"That was...unexpected," Raven said reluctantly.

Moira didn't slow down.

"You say I barely knew Erik," she said, "I'd argue you barely knew me."


	7. Chapter 7

"And then, woosh! And all the stuff was gone!" Laura said.

Emma smiled, readjusting her position on her bunk bed. It was about the fifteenth time Laura had told that story, and yet, she never got sick of it. It was good to know that Moira's son was looking out for her little niece after all.

"Kevin can also talk in your mind like your sister," said Megan, "He doesn't do it for us though."

"Why not?" asked Laura, "Emma talks to me all the time."

"Well, he's a little younger," Amanda said, "And your sister's got a lot of experience."

"That's right. I'm a regular expert," said Emma.

Laura nodded emphatically, her long hair scattering. Emma thought it might have grown an inch or two since they had come to the Institute. Maybe she should look into getting her a haircut soon.

"But, after, he just smiled," said Laura, "Like it was okay. Like it wasn't a big deal, what he'd done. Just...helping."

Emma tilted her head and reached for a glass of water she kept on her nightstand. Her fingers gripped it tightly, and she had to struggle not to spill any. Laura had shown her what the experience had looked like from her perspective. While Emma knew Sam hadn't meant any harm, where Laura came from, a 'demonstration' meant something rather different, and rather painful.

Laura grabbed her ankles, and began to rock slightly. It was an odd behavior, and Emma hadn't figured out exactly what it meant yet. So she just gave her a pleasant, encouraging look, and brought the water up to her lips.

"And he has a pretty smile," Laura said.

The words made Emma choke. Laura gave her a concerned look, but Emma just held up a hand and swallowed what little water was left. Still feeling startled, Emma looked over at Amanda. A grin was playing around her roommate's lips.

"Boys aren't pretty," said Megan.

"I said his smile was," Laura said, her thumbs running over her ankles, "Even if he smells like paper."

"Well, fancy that," said Amanda.

"Didn't you say we were going to get cookies?" asked Emma.

The words came out raspy and hurried. She rushed to drink more water, even if her throat cried in protest.

"They're missing," Amanda said, turning away from Laura, "And I think our resident speedster's to blame."

"Well, I'll go find out," said Emma, getting up and grabbing a bathrobe, "You all...talk about what else you did in class. I'll be back soon."

She cinched the bathrobe around her waist and hurried down the hall. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but Laura's words were echoing around in her head. Not that she minded if Laura had a crush on Kevin. He was Moira's son, a mutant, and sounded like a good student. If Moira and Charles got married, he'd be rich too. No danger, even if it went into high school or beyond.

Still, it was shocking. She made her way down to the kitchen, shaking her head. A little over a month ago she hadn't even had a niece, and now, in her own innocent, guileless way, she might be crushing on a boy.

Emma walked into the kitchen, and found the cookie jar with its lid off. She peered inside and found cookies, but there were far fewer than what she would expect a batch of Amanda's cookies to contain. Yes, Peter had been here.

Loud footsteps clattered down the hall, and she looked up, startled. Beneath her robe and pajamas, she could feel her skin start to turn to diamond, and she hid one diamond fist behind her back, getting ready to reach out with her mind-

Scott walked into the kitchen. She allowed herself to relax as his expression turned from gloomy to surprised.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't think anyone else was awake."

"Usually, no," said Emma, "I'm just here, getting these."

She gestured to the cookies. He nodded, but she could see where his face was bunched up in stress. She picked up the jar.

"You might need one," she said.

"I'm good," he said.

"You're not," said Emma, putting the jar down, "Something's wrong. Cookies tend to help."

"Not sure I want to talk about it," he said.

She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Yes, because that wasn't dramatic at all," Emma said, "What's wrong?"

He looked around, and she could tell he was thinking about leaving the room. If he did, he wouldn't be the first one to walk out to avoid conversation. Kayla's father had often done that when Emma asked when her mother was coming home.

"When..." he said hesitantly, "When..."

She allowed her arms to relax a little, trying to take a less hostile stance.

"Did you...when you find out who killed your sister, what did you do?" he asked.

The question surprised her, and she stared. Scott caught her expression and hurriedly shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I-"

"I cried," said Emma, "I cried so hard, and for so long, that something in my eyes burst and I wept blood. Martinique said it was the dumbest thing she'd ever seen."

The red lenses of his glasses turned up at her, and she sighed. Emma ran a hand through her hair and turned back to the cookie jar. Frustrated, she put the lid on. No point in not saying anything else now.

"But I remembered his name, the one they said tore my sister to pieces," Emma said, "And I will not forget it. I will find him one day."

She looked over her shoulder.

"But...the fact that you're asking is making me wonder," she said, "I know you already found the one responsible for your brother's death."

"Someone else helped," Scott said.

Emma turned around fully. She crossed her arms again, tapping her fingers on her arm. His tone was off, and she sighed before asking the question in her head. Once again, there was no point in not asking it.

"If they were here, right now, tied up, would you want to kill them?" she asked.

Scott looked at her, startled. He spluttered for a second, and Emma gave a quick jerk of her head.

"You don't then," she said.

"I'm not-" he began.

"The question wasn't whether or not you're a murderer," she said, "The question was whether or not you felt the urge. But the idea surprised you, because I think you don't honestly think this person is to blame. I think you feel justice, in its own way, was already done."

Scott looked away. Emma grabbed the cookie jar and approached, putting it on the counter.

"Scott, if you feel like you got closure on that, don't try to open new doors," said Emma, "That's...pointless, and it's not going to end. I wouldn't want that for me, and I don't want that for anyone else. You had your chance to...not make your brother's death meaningful, but to make sure that wouldn't happen to anyone else. I haven't gotten that chance."

Not yet.

"I...I'm going to run into them soon," he said.

"I never said you had to trust them," said Emma, "Or like them. But, as I said, don't go opening doors that are, as much as they can be, shut."

She picked up the cookie jar with one hand and took off the lid with the other.

"Now, have a cookie," she said, "It'll...I don't know, but it's good. Amanda uses three kinds of chocolate."

He smiled softly, and grabbed one. He'd just taken the first bite when Jean came in, looking worried.

"Scott, I-" began Jean.

The girl stopped short when she saw Emma. Emma quickly took a step backward and put the lid on the cookie jar.

"Don't worry," she said, "I was just leaving."

She slipped around Jean, not looking back. Emma was careful, as she moved, to not even brush shoulders with the witch. But, as she walked the halls back to her room, she realized that, in its own way, Scott's smile was actually rather pretty.

* * *

The soft lights in the hospital room were starting to scare Chris. It was too quiet in there, and it had been a long time since he'd been hooked up to this much damn machinery. At first, he'd actually been worried Stryker had sent him to Essex for improvements in light of his injuries.

However, he'd realized he'd just been sent to a small hospital with heavy security. However, he was tired of the damn tube in his mouth around mealtimes, and he'd just gotten there. He'd actually been restrained, so there wasn't much to do other than watch the same stupid programs on TV.

The power, however, had gone out. That had made him nervous because, even hopped up on pain medication, he knew the power was running the machines that kept him alive. However, they'd explained they had emergency power.

They'd just left, and Chris had been resigned to try and get some sleep, when he heard the window slide open. His eyes darted over, frightened, as a figure perched on the ledge. For a minute, Chris stared, and angry eyes looked back at him.

"Don't say a damn word, or I will kill you."

He swallowed, a strange feeling in a throat still sore from teh feeding tube. The figure stepped inside, pausing quickly at the door. Chris half-hoped the guards would make another check soon. The other part hoped that, whatever happened next, it would be quick.

"I was surprised to find out you were here. I thought if someone on the team got injured this bad they just put them down, like a horse with a limp."

Chris wondered if he could somehow manipulate the machinery, shock the person in front of him into oblivion. Again though, there was the half of him that was tired. If he died this way, then it might be alright.

It would certainly be fair.

"So. Who put you here?"

"Magneto," he managed.

There was a pause.

"That's...interesting."

"Found him around one of our old camps," said Chris, "Wasn't...wasn't fast enough."

"So you attracted his attention. Good. I heard he hates assholes like you."

Chris shrugged his shoulder, only to feel pain shoot up and down his body. He winced, and he thought he saw the figure smile.

"Vic got orders to go somewhere in New York. Why?"

He pressed his lips together, and the figure came closer.

"You gonna kill me?" he asked.

The question was more out of curiosity than anything else. The figure shrugged.

"You always struck me as the reading type. No one else did. They say the innermost circle of hell is where Satan chows down on your ass, saved for traitors like you. Satan can wait a little longer for his meal."

Chris closed his eyes.

"Some telepath runs a school there," he said, "They took...something, someone, it's difficult...to tell, but they took something from the Muir Island facility. Essex wants it back. So does Stryker."

"This telepath. Is he strong?"

"Very."

The figure cocked their head.

"They're sending Vic aroudn the area to get Mags before he gets there," said Chris, "They say he and the telepath, they know each other, something like that."

"Right."

The figure turned, heading back to the window.

"You're not gonna kill Vic," said Chris, "You may think you will, but I know you won't."

Another pause, and then the figure returned, each step purposeful. A hand slammed down on his lips, cutting them against his teeth. There was a silken sound, and he felt the bite of metal against his throat.

Despite his earlier ambivalence, he also felt a shred of panic. When the figure spoke again, it was a growl.

"Don't you dare pretend to know what I will or won't do. There was only one damn person on that goddamn team who understood me, and it wasn't you."

The hand and the metal disappeared. Chris gasped, and when he was done, the window had already slammed shut.


	8. Chapter 8

"Have you seen Dr. McCoy today?" asked Amanda, "I have a question for him from last night's science homework."

"I haf not," Kurt said.

He sounded a little uncomfortable, and Amanda frowned. However, something in his expression told her he didn't want to talk about it, at least not where people could see or hear them. She supposed it was X-men stuff, and that meant she needed to wait to ask about it.

So she shrugged and, maneuvering her fingers slightly, slipped her hand into his. Kurt blushed, as he always did, and she leaned in a little closer as they walked into the library. Two boys were on one of the couches, talking.

"You'll just have to help me then," she said.

"I am not good at science," he said.

"Then we'll figure it out together," Amanda declared, "And if we can't figure it out by the time Megan gets out-"

"Geez, do you think she ever shuts up?"

"Must come with having bad genes."

Amanda looked over at the two boys, raising an eyebrow. They were snickering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I can hear you you know," she said.

One of the boys snorted, and the other smirked. She'd seen expressions like that before on the faces of people who she'd bribed during her flight from Latveria. What had started as annoyance became a prickle of something else.

"So?" he asked.

"Stop it," Kurt said, gripping her hand tighter.

"What, are you seriously happy she's here?" asked one of the boys, "I thought this was billed as a school for mutants, where we didn't have to worry about people like her, or that psychic kid's mom. They can go to their schools, or...hm."

He leaned forward. Amanda felt her heart thudding in her chest, indignation rushing into her cheeks.

"Was the idea of having everything handed to you just too good to pass up Euro trash?" he said.

Gypsy scum. Rat. Homeless piece of garbage. Different words, same tone.

"Take zat back!" Kurt snapped.

"What?" asked the boy, "You've known her for, how long is it? A month and you two are already attached at the hip? Admit it, you only want her here because she's easy."

Amanda couldn't feel her hand, and she saw an expression on Kurt's face she didn't recognize. Then the door opened, and Emma walked in. Her eyes swept over the scene and, for a moment, narrowed.

But when the boys turned to her, she schooled her face into a charming look.

"Something wrong here Mandy?" she asked.

Amanda blinked for a moment, because Emma had never been one for nicknames. However, seeing how uncomfortable the boys suddenly became, she realized Emma had used an overly-familiar term on purpose. Emma might be fairly new to the school, but she already had several boys trying to curry her favor.

"Not sure," Amanda said, her voice even.

Kurt flashed her a look, but she gave a quick shake of her head. She didn't want to make a big deal out of what had happened, not when side looks had followed her down the hall since she'd first come, when people whispered behind her back.

That something was happening as a result was no surprise. That it was happening when Kurt was there to see her embarrassment, that Emma was there as an additional spectator, was not something that she'd wanted.

The only thing that could make it worse was if Megan was there. She wanted them protected.

"Nothing's wrong," one of the boys said, his tone syrupy as he looked at Emma.

The other boy turned, probably to say something similar in a similar tone, but Kurt's fist smacked into his face. He was knocked off balance and fell off the couch, tumbling down on the hardwood floor.

Kurt moved forward, letting go of her hand. Amanda grabbed his arm, holding him back. His blood-red eyes met hers, angry and hurt on her behalf, and her heart sunk lower.

"You sonuvabitch!" the other boy said, "You are in so much trouble-"

"He's not actually," said Emma, "Because neither of you are going to mention this to anyone."

Both boys froze, one of them still wiping blood from his lip.

"You're not going to remember this incident at all," she said, "And if anyone asks you about that busted lip, you weren't looking where you were going, and walked into the wall."

Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"And you two are going to have massive migraines in about ten minutes, right after you leave here," she said, "And you're never going to say a goddamn thing about Amanda or Moira's lack of an X-gene again."

Both boys stared at Emma, slack-jawed and with cow eyes. Amanda felt sick. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling something moist gather there.

"You can go now," said Emma.

They both scrambled to their feet and hurried out of the room. Emma turned back, smiling. Her expression stopped when she saw Amanda.

"Are you okay?"

"Amanda?" Kurt asked.

"Don't...don't do this," said Amanda, "Not...God."

She let go of Kurt's arm and hurried out of the room, feeling humiliated, burdensome. Amanda rounded the hallway and Kurt appeared in a cloud of black smoke. He desperately grabbed at her hand, and she stopped, still feeling the tears well up.

"If you don't say anything back they ignore you," she said, "They just, people like that...just let it go, okay? I've been called worse than Euro trash or human or even easy."

"But you shouldn't be," Kurt said.

"But I will be," Amanda said, turning back at him, looking at his beautiful eyes and remembering that night on top of the ship, "And you can't hit all of them, not if you want to stay at the school."

"Nein," said Kurt, embarrassed, "Zat vas...wrong, violence is wrong, but I will never be able to not stand up for you."

Emma walked around the corner, one hand on the wall. Her friend gave a small nod, and Amanda looked down, knowing Emma felt the same. She bit her lip, but felt the tension there eased by a hand on her face.

"You all have found something good here," she murmured, "You've got acceptance, you've got a safe haven. I know...I'm not stupid. I know that's rare for mutants, even though you deserve so much more."

She shook her head.

"I don't want you to get into trouble because you're sticking up for the human," Amanda said. "I don't want to ruin things for you."

"I haf learned zat most people vill never know anything beyond vhat zey see with their own two eyes," Kurt said, "I pity zem. I do not listen, and you should not."

She sighed, and she let him hug her, tighter than he ever had, barring once on the ship that took them away from Muir Island. She hugged back, looked over her shoulder at Emma, giving her a silent nod of thanks, letting herself see the understanding on her friend's face.

* * *

It troubled Charles more than he could say that Hank wasn't at the Danger Room session . He knew the rest of the team noticed it too, but no one said anything. Kurt hit harder than normal, but he wasn't sure if that was connected or not. Only Moira and Raven gave him looks, although Raven's was accompanied by a sort of mournful shrug of her shoulders.

So he'd stayed and watched, his mind slowly going through what he should say to his oldest student. He didn't have a perfect idea when the session was over, but he did know that he would have to talk to him.

He'd wheeled himself out with a distinct purpose afterward, his mind wandering the school, wondering where Hank could be. When he saw, he sighed and looked over his shoulder at Moira.

 _I think I'm going to be a little late for dinner tonight,_ he said, _Tell Kevin I'm sorry if I miss it._

She nodded, looking somewhat troubled.

 _Are you sure you want to do this?_ she asked.

 _Want?_ he asked, _No. I don't want to do this at all, but I think it's time I did._

She nodded, looking no less concerned, but there was a small smile playing at her lips. So at least she approved. He gave her a quick nod, and then headed down the hall to Hank's lab.

When the house had been remodeled, complete with underground tunnels to house a jet and Cerebro, he'd made sure a plan was put in place for a lab. Hank needed a place to tinker and be himself, and he'd retreated to it more than once in the past few years.

While he suspected the door would be unlocked, he pressed the intercom system. Simply going into his mind to ask seemed like it would be a kind of intrusion, given everything that had happened the previous day.

"Hank?" he asked.

"What?"

Charles winced at the blatant irritation. Perhaps he shouldn't have let him stew for so long? Then again, last night thinks might have been too raw. If Hank were still one of his students, younger, he might have a better idea which of the two would be the best pick.

Then again, Hank had always been the one who trusted him the most. It was why this particular situation hurt, but it might be long in coming. He might have, without knowing it, taken that trust for granted.

And he'd paid the price for that before.

"I wanted to talk," said Charles.

He heard Hank sigh on the other end, and the door opened. Charles took a deep breath and wheeled in. Hank was behind his desk, his eyes glued on the computer in front of him and fingers flying across the keyboard.

Charles wheeled up next to him, looking at the screen. He felt his heart sink when he realized what it was Hank was working on.

"You're bolstering the security protocols," he said.

"Yep," said Hank, "Just in case they send more than one tank, you know?"

His voice was tight, and Charles felt himself wince again.

"Hank, please understand-" Charles began.

"No, I think you need to understand," said Hank, hitting the keys a little more forcefully, "Do you know how many times we've trusted Erik with something important? Cuba, even breaking him out of jail? I know you went along with that reluctantly, and I was right there with you then. But then..."

Hank trailed off and hit the space bar. Charles rubbed his temples.

"Hank-"

"I've calculated it you know," said Hank, "Working with Erik has, give or take, about an 80 percent chance of a negative outcome."

"Well, when you quantify it," Charles said weakly.

Hank snorted. Charles stayed silent for a moment, watching his friend. At the distance he was at, he could see the lines on his face, brought by stress and age. Twenty years had taken their toll on Charles, but they had taken their toll on the bright-eyed, shy scientist and child prodigy he'd met at the CIA.

And such years they'd been. Cuba, D.C., Cairo and now Muir Island. The only one who had been on his side through everything had been Hank. Charles had forced Moira away, true enough, and she'd have stayed with him willingly. But Hank had been given the option, and he had accepted it.

Hank had stayed when everyone else had gone, when ties of family and friendship had weakened or they'd seen another path. And he was so proud of Hank. He was proud he'd gone further into his studies, was a teacher and, in his own right, a commander.

What upset him was simply the fact that Hank's current feelings hadn't grown overnight, and he had never thought to ask. Charles swallowed, and ran his hand over his head, feeling the place where his hair had once been.

"Erik is dangerous," he said at last.

Hank stopped typing, and inclined his head fractionally.

"He is undisciplined, and when he makes a decision, he will follow through with it no matter what the consequences may be," said Charles, "Most of the time that hasn't worked in our favor."

"I'm sensing that I'm not going to agree with whatever excuse you say next," Hank said drily.

"Probably not," Charles admitted, "You see, Hank, I can't give up on him. Just like I couldn't, can't, give up on Raven. And you didn't give up on her either, admit that."

Hank rubbed his temples. He expected that the next words would have something to do with Hank's old feelings toward his sister.

"She never tried to kill me," said Hank, "And she never tried to kill you."

Well, that was different.

"I know," said Charles, "But...even if she had...I have trouble letting go Hank. I think you know that. My first students are still the most precious to me, as are those connected to them. And when I...when I...Hank, I wish we talked about this earlier."

"Sounds like a great idea," Hank muttered, "When would I have brought it up?"

Charles tilted his head, conceding the point. He paused again before speaking.

"Hank, I should've talked this out with you, I admit that," he said, "You're not a student anymore, and I shouldn't take you for granted, but I'm asking you to trust me this one last time."

Hank sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Even if it does go well, it's no sign it will next time you do this," said Hank.

"Hank, I honestly believe that he's on a better path now," Charles said, "I think we need him, and I think he will do the right thing. He just needs the chance."

"Do you really?" asked Hank.

"Why else invite him to the school, where my students are?" Charles said, "Where the boy I'm rapidly seeing as my son lives, the woman I love who carries my child? The place where..."

He hesitated, but reached out and clasped Hank's shoulder.

"The place where my best student and oldest friend calls home?"

Hank looked at Charles's hand and let out a long breath.

"Please," Charles said, "One more chance."

Silence descended, lasting as long as a heartbeat. Then Hank gave a brief nod, and Charles felt a burden lift from his shoulders.

"I'm still upping the security protocols though," Hank muttered.

"I trust your judgement," said Charles.

Hank sighed.

"And I trust yours," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't understand," Laura said, her hands clutching her backpack straps desperately, "What's a book report?"

"Well, it's when you read a book, and then you have to talk about it," Megan said, "I guess Professor Singer just figured you knew."

Laura shrunk in on herself, flexing her hands. They'd been hurting since that morning, along with her feet. It was like her knuckles were pushing apart. It wasn't the worst pain she'd ever felt, but it was enough to make it feel like nothing was going right.

And it really did feel like that. She'd only been going to school for around two days and she was already feeling helplessly lost. What was she doing wrong? She had always passed all the tests back at the island, even if they hurt. Everyone told her she was doing very well.

Here, nothing made sense. No one was prodding her with needles or cutting her and then timing how fast it was going to heal, and that was great, but she couldn't help but feel a little lost. Book report? She'd only seen her first book a month or so ago.

"Or maybe he was going to explain, and then he forgot because Peter came and stole his Tab," Kevin suggested, "Anyway, it's not complicated. We'll help you."

He smiled again, and Laura wanted to reach out and grip his cheeks so he kept smiling. She didn't though, because she'd been told plenty of times not to touch people without their permission.

Still.

"Come on, let's go pick one out for you," said Kevin.

He gestured toward the library, and Laura moved quickly behind him, trying to keep in tight with him and Megan. Sam and Xi'an were working on their science project right now, another headache in waiting, but Laura had been more frightened of the book report than she had been of science. Science was just building things. She'd been doing that for a while, but reading was something she'd only just got the hang of.

Kevin pushed open the door to the library with a flick of his hand. It was empty, probably because no one wanted to do their homework. She'd told her aunt that was why she wanted to come down there, although, really, the idea of just looking around the library was fun. Maybe they would even play another board game, and, this time, she might understand it.

"Okay," Kevin said, setting down his backpack, "What types of books do you like to read?"

Laura struggled. She hadn't actually read any full-length books by herself. Kevin frowned, and looked over at Megan, who shrugged.

"Got it," Kevin said, "Do you like to watch shows that are more about magic and faeries, ones where things blow up, ones with princesses, romance, what?"

Laura again found herself struggling. She bit her lip.

"Um, it was really, really cool when my aunt and I read me this story about pirates," said Laura.

"Yeah, it was _Treasure Island_!" Megan said.

She nodded, grateful. Kevin was still blinking at her, and she felt heat rush into her cheeks. She wished he would smile at her. It was better when he was smiling at her, letting her know nothing was wrong.

"So, you haven't read any books?" he asked, "Like, ever?"

"She's from Scotland!" Megan piped up, "It's awful there!"

Kevin really looked taken aback now.

"You don't sound Scottish," he said, looking at Laura.

"And you don't sound like a cowboy!" said Megan, "I heard you were Southern."

"I was born in Virginia," said Kevin, "And that's not...I don't...okay, right. Okay. I don't sound like a cowboy. I didn't know Scotland was that bad though."

"It's awful!" Megan said, "I thought Latveria was terrible, but you should've seen Scotland! They don't even have school there, and at least Latveria tried."

Laura wanted to correct Megan, but her friend just kept charging ahead. Where was Scotland?

"My mom's family was from Scotland, at least at one point," Kevin said.

"Yeah, and it's awful," said Megan, "That's probably why they left and came here. Like me and Amanda."

Kevin frowned but then shook his head.

"Fine. Okay. Scotland," he said, "I think we need to get back to book reports. It's almost dinner time, and I need to hurry up."

He looked back at the bookcase, his expression intense. Finally he reached out, and a book levitated off the shelf. He watched it as it made its journey to Laura. She held out her hands for it tentatively, and it fell into them.

It jostled her fingers, and she winced. Kevin walked up, concerned.

"Did I drop it too hard?" he asked.

"No," she said, "But my knuckles are really hurting lately. All fourteen of them."

Kevin cocked his head.

"People have ten knuckles," he said.

"Yes, ten," she said quickly, "I meant ten."

Stupid. Now she couldn't count. She could've sworn fourteen came after thirteen though, and ten came before. She'd thought she was good at counting, but now she didn't even know when ten was.

To hide her face, Laura looked down at the book.

" _Peter Pan_?" she asked.

"I really liked that one," said Kevin, "It's about these kids who run away and live on this mystic island. But there's a bad guy pirate they have to fight."

"Kids?" she asked, uncertain, "This has a...has a happy ending, right?"

"Yeah, of course," said Kevin.

She looked at the book again.

"But, they're really young," she said, "And even Jim Hawkins had help."

"They can fly," said Kevin, "And the main one, the boy, he's really smart. He wants to have fun and take care fun of the rest, so he fights the pirate."

Laura was still uncertain, but nodded because she wanted to see if it would make Kevin smile. It did, and she managed to give one back. There was a noise, and she looked over her shoulder as a tall, graceful teen with red-hair walked in.

She smiled at Laura, and Laura found herself liking her instantly. She seemed like she would be nice.

"Hey Kevin," she said, "I haven't met your new friend yet."

Friend. She beamed. Kevin was her friend. So was Megan. She had friends now.

"This is Laura," he said.

"Hi!" Laura said.

That was what she was supposed to say, she was sure.

"Hi!" the teen said, "I'm Jean."

Jean. Oh no. Laura's face fell and Jean frowned. Kevin immediately began fishing around in his backpack.

"So, I started reading _Northanger Abbey_ like you said, and I hate it," said Kevin, "She's not...she's boring. Anne was really strong, and she...well, Catherine's not Anne. She's kind of stupid."

He looked over at them, and then frowned. Why?

"Is something wrong?" asked Jean.

"I'm really sorry," Laura said, taking a step back, "But...I'm not supposed to be around you."

Maybe that was why Kevin was frowning. But his frown just deepened when she said that, and even Megan seemed confused.

"Sorry?" asked Jean.

The teen looked hurt, and Laura wished she wouldn't. What was it her aunt had said? She squished her nose in concentration. Maybe repeating it would help explain. She hadn't understood it, but there were a lot of things she didn't understand that everyone else seemed to.

"Um...my Aunt Emma said you're a...yeah, she said you're a goddamn bitch and I shouldn't be around you," said Laura, "So I'm really sorry, but I don't want to make her upset."

Jean looked like she'd been smacked in the face. Megan looked confused, lipping the words Laura had said. It was something she did when she didn't understand the English sometimes. Since Laura didn't understand either, that made sense.

But Kevin was gaping at her. What had she done? She immediately felt heat rush to her face, and she clenched the book to her chest.

"I...I'd better go," she said.

Without looking back, Laura fled, all fourteen knuckles and both feet throbbing.

* * *

Erik finished paying for gas and headed outside, a can of Tab in hand. It still surprised him, after all these years, how little people recognized him. True, he'd aged a decade, grown stubble he hadn't quite gotten around to shaving off, but still. All he seemed to need to do was add a baseball cap and sunglasses.

Maybe, if he'd been smart about it, he could've stayed in America after D.C. Then again, he hadn't wanted to. Instead, he'd wandered back to Poland, found acceptance and love in a beautiful woman with dark eyes and hair.

He shook his head and got into the beaten up truck he'd claimed around two days ago, right after he'd told Charles he'd be on his way. His arm was still scraped up from the fight he'd gotten into with Stryker's attack dogs. It had been a bullet, which had pissed him off. Whoever that man was, he was a good shot, good enough to get one close to him in a moment of distraction.

His friend hadn't been so lucky. As soon as Erik had seen the one with electric abilities separate from the rest of the group, he'd beaten him into a pulp, listening for any scraps of information he could use.

Usually he didn't like to take such a physical route. However, the man had exceptionally good teeth, no fillings, no extensive work. So he'd taken a different route, with only a vague thought that, maybe, there might have been a better way.

Erik snorted to himself as he started up his truck. That was Charles speaking in his head, a voice he was finding harder and harder to ignore, in both senses. Ever since Cairo, he'd heard his friend's voice in his head, recordings from the days when they were both young and idealistic. At least, as idealistic as Erik had ever been, barring a few sweet years in Poland.

In the case of Stryker's dogs though, he felt a pass was in order. These were the kind of people he'd been afraid of when he'd formed the Brotherhood. They were the type of people who eagerly prodded and poked at powers, seeing their subjects as less than animals. It was nothing to them to have a young boy watch his mother die, to become gleeful when they discovered a woman pregnant with a mutant's child had fallen into their clutches.

He turned a corner, thinking about that particular bit of news. While what Essex and Stryker were up to had been enough to spark Erik's alarm, the news about Moira's condition, and her subsequent treatment, had led him to agree to work with his old friend again. They would never be able to agree on just how to deal with the two when they caught them, but, after hearing about the child Charles was trying to protect, he'd known not working together wasn't an option.

The fact of the matter was that, even if his unborn child was threatened, even if ten of his unborn children were threatened, Erik doubted Charles would want to do things his way. That was going to be problematic. But the situation demanded that, if he still considered Charles a friend, he help rather than pursue his own idea of what should be done to Essex and Stryker.

And, as Cairo had proven, he did consider Charles a friend. He did consider him, in a strange sense of the word, family. And he'd be damned if his friend, if his brother, was going to have to hold his lifeless wife and child in his arms one day, screaming at the sky.

He waved his hand and the top popped on the can. A twitch of his fingers brought the can to his lips as he continued to travel. He wasn't a fan of most of these sodas, but water wasn't going to work for the trip ahead of him, and he had a long road ahead of him.

He'd only stopped for a few short breaks, so he had a good chance of meeting his own self-imposed deadline. Most of those stops were for caffeine. Coffee might have been better, but American coffee tasted like piss most of the time. That left soda, and the can was the cheapest, and most convenient.

Besides, he didn't mind Tab.

He tapped his finger again, and the can lowered into the cup holder. A glint in the review mirror caught his eye, and he looked at it. Nothing was glinting now, but he took off his sunglasses. It was why he was able to catch a second glint, a shot coming his way.

Erik slammed on the brakes and reached out. Yes, it was a bullet. One headed for his damn tire.


	10. Chapter 10

Who the hell was shooting at him? Erik felt a spark of indignation. Had someone seriously just tried to shoot him? With a metal bullet? Even those bastards in Poland had been smart enough to come at him without metal.

He wanted to do something, shout perhaps, but the urge to act overtook it. So, instead of yelling that the sniper was goddamn moron, he felt for the bullet's trajectory and reversed it. It was a simple enough task, one he'd preferred many a time. Erik heard something that sounded like a cry when it hit home, but he might have been imagining it.

He took his foot off the brake and sped up, gunning it as fast as the hunk of junk he'd stolen could go. He wasn't sure what he was up against, but the best bet was likely to just get the hell out of there.

Over the roar of the rickety engine, something else caught his ear. It was a thudding noise, like an animal running on all fours. He glanced at his side view mirror, but he didn't see a glint this time. What he did see gave him a momentary pause, even with his history.

A man was running on all fours, catching up. Again, that wasn't something he'd seen too many times, outside of Hank. Even then, Hank did it rarely, his powerful feet usually enough to give him the boost he needed.

Erik reached out but, to his surprise, he didn't feel any metal on the man. The sniper obviously had metal, so was he just less cautious than the mutant catching up to him? Less cautious and more foolish? Perhaps.

Or perhaps he'd been a distraction, something so the man could get in close. He didn't look like the type to enjoy long range combat. Erik knew the type, and he could only feel a vague sense of annoyance at what was happening.

The man leapt at the truck, and Erik could hear him land in the flatbed. In his rear view mirror he could see him moving further up, trying to climb in the cab. Erik almost rolled his eyes. Mutant or no, the solution to this was obvious. It would hurt both of them, but it would most definitely hurt the man more than it hurt him.

Erik pulled his foot back and slammed the brakes again. At the same time, he ducked. Something sailed past his head. Seconds later, despite having time to brace himself, his head hit the steering wheel. It made him dizzy for a minute, and he tasted blood on his lip. Glass sprinkled around him, Tab spilt on his cheek, and he smelt sugar and carbonation.

However, when he raised his head, he saw the man get up from the street. Given the speed that he'd braked at, he should've been a smear on the asphalt. Instead, he was getting up, cracking his neck at odd angles.

Erik decided not to wait to find out why that was. He jerked the truck off the road. It wasn't an all-terrain vehicle, but it would do. It was a bumpy ride, the woods not being kind to the wheels. The baseball hat flew up and away from his head, and what Tab hadn't been spilled by his initial attempt to shake off the man splashed on the passenger's seat.

One of the tires gave, and Erik felt the truck jerk even more wildly. The steering wheel jerked around, and he realized he wasn't going to be able to regain control of the vehicle. Swearing to himself he kicked open the door and launched himself out.

The ground met him hard, but the foliage softened the blow somewhat. Besides, he knew how to fall, knew how to reduce damage. All the same, he landed at an awkward angle on his arm. He gritted his teeth, wondering just how bad it was.

He had time to determine that it wasn't a break, and it wasn't dislocated, before he started getting to his feet. A second later he heard the crunch of metal against a tree trunk. All around him, different bolts and the bumper sailed through the air. So much for the truck.

He straightened up and saw the man from the road standing a few feet away from him. Blood was still smeared across his face, and Erik thought he saw a piece of bone there. Skull bone.

So the man could heal. Interesting.

"Heard what ya did ta Chris," the man said.

"Was that his name?" asked Erik.

"Not sure," said the man, "Don't really care."

Now that was different. There was, he supposed, something he should say to that. However, he didn't have time before the man launched himself at him. Erik spun out of the way, but what felt like talons bit into his already-injured arm.

It wasn't a deep wound, the way he moved had insured that, but it was enough to irritate him. Erik flung out his arms, and the crumpled truck flew through the air. It slammed into the man, pushing him back, and a metallic tang filled the air.

However, Erik waited. He couldn't get the image of the man in the road out of his mind, and that meant he couldn't go until he confirmed the kill. Charles might not approve, but, honestly, he was getting a little tired of holding himself up the standards his friend kept expecting of him, especially in these situations.

The truck was flung to the side. Erik raised his eyebrows.

"Huh," he said.

Erik tore off pieces of the truck as the man advanced. A piece slashed into his arm, into his leg, but he kept coming, his eyes looking increasingly angry. A trickle of worry came into his head, but he'd dealt with this sort of thing before.

He splayed his fingers, and the metal pushed the man away. He looked surprised, but he wouldn't be able to help the pull. The metal was in his flesh now. With a little more concentration, he managed to make the metal twist around a nearby tree. The man snarled, but stayed put.

Erik crossed his arms and cocked his head.

"One of Stryker's I'm guessing?" he asked.

"One of Xavier's?" the man sneered.

Erik raised his eyebrows.

"Now that's something of an overstatement," he said, "Although, you knowing the name does irritate me."

The man smirked.

"Not the only thing we know," he said, "Erik Lensherr right? Or Max Eisenstadt?"

Red obscured his vision. For a minute, he saw his wife, calling his name downstairs, their daughter's hand clenched in hers. He saw the birds, heard his wife begging little Nina to calm down, the sound of a woman whose world was being taken from her.

Erik twisted the metal deeper, and the man howled in pain, but he kept smirking.

"Use that name again, and I will kill you," Erik snapped.

"Best o' luck," the man laughed.

Anger leeched into his veins, and he opened his mouth to speak. A gurgle caught his attention, followed by two more, and he turned. Three men were down, blood coming from throats and chests.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Erik turned around and saw a second man. He started, his mind going back around ten years. He watched as Logan stormed up, metal claws slicing through his skin. The fact that they weren't bone anymore was strange enough, but that wasn't the only strange thing.

He couldn't help but notice what a strange type of metal they were, unlike anything he'd encountered. It was almost like steel, but not quite. It had some qualities of lead in it too but, again, it was off.

"Why?" Logan growled.

"Why?" the other man laughed.

He ripped an arm free from the tree. Blood slopped to the ground.

"You left. Never called, never wrote. How else was I supposed to get your atten-?"

Logan rushed forward and buried his claws into the man's neck. Erik watched the blood, watched the gurgle, but he also watched the man's free hand come around and dig into the side of Logan's neck.

There was a howl, and Logan moved back. The man broke free from the tree, blood still slopping from his neck. Erik watched his advance, as well as Logan turn, the blood staining his shirt, but the skin closing over the wound.

Erik looked behind him, contemplating if going back to the road was a good idea. However, he heard, rather than saw, the approach of the other soldiers. Erik rubbed his temples and flexed his fingers, feeling for metal.

He found plenty and, again, had to sigh at their arrogance. However, he also looked as Logan began to charge at the other man, and wondered what he was doing here. Had Charles sent him? No, he would have mentioned. Charles might have a vested interest in making sure Erik made it to the Institute, but having Logan back definitely would have been a topic of conversation. He'd been a pain in the neck ten years ago.

However, before he'd found it necessary to dump him in a river, he'd come to appreciate Logan's unique skill set. He looked at the other man, felt the metal still inside him. He rubbed his chin for a moment, and decided to take a risk. Maybe he could even kill two birds with one stone.

He concentrated on the soldiers closing in and the pins in multiple grenades flew out. Seconds before Logan and the other man made impact, and just before the grenades went off, Erik threw out his hand and pushed the other man into one of the soldiers.

Explosions ringed the clearing, and Erik was nearly knocked off his feet. Trees caught on fire, surrounding them in smoke. However, he managed to regain his balance, just in time to have Logan grab him by his shirt and slam him into a tree.

He hissed in pain. Yes, Logan wasn't the friendliest if he remembered correctly.

"Goddamnit," Logan hissed, "Why did you-?"

"I just blew him up," said Erik, "I understand he heals, but I think that should be sufficient."

"He's like me, and some asshole filled me full of metal once and dumped me in a river," Logan snapped.

Erik raised his eyebrows, wondering what exactly Logan was playing at. However, he could see the honest lack of bitterness in his eyes. So he didn't know? It had always been fun to taunt him, but Erik had the feeling he would have to save that for later.

"Hasn't worked," Logan said. "Thought the head...Hafta figure out a different way to kill 'im, and he ain't the only one on my list."

Great. Erik didn't know what he had stepped into, but it was only important if it meant Essex and Stryker would concentrate more forces on them.

"What are you doing here exactly?" said Erik, "You obviously don't remember me-"

"Have we met?" asked Logan.

"Yes, or I wouldn't have mentioned the two of us meeting," Erik said, irritated, "I thought that much was obvious."

"Obvious you're an asshole," snapped Logan, "There's a week or so in 1973 I can't remember. If you were in it, I'm kinda glad."

There was a week he couldn't remember? Erik wondered if that had something to do with the time travel Logan had claimed to participate in, or if Charles had simply taken away the memories for some reason of his own.

"Well, as I was saying," Erik said, "You don't remember me, so I'm unclear as to what you were hoping you could do here."

"Was hoping I could settle something," Logan snapped, "Didn't work, but I heard Essex is interested in you."

"I believe he's trying to kill me," said Erik.

"Join the club," Logan snarled.

Erik raised his eyebrows. He flexed his fingers, and Logan's fingers were yanked apart, allowing him to regain his own footing. Logan looked at him in surprise, but he shouldn't have been.

He had metal running through his entire skeleton now after all.

"Then, as we leave before too many reinforcements come in, I might have something to say you'd be interested in," Erik said.


	11. Chapter 11

Moira was already in the dining room by the time Charles entered. She'd been relieved that Kevin mentioned he was probably going to be late in the library, and not just because it might give Charles time to arrive. For the first time, her son was making an effort to be social. There was no way she was going to discourage that.

As it was, her son had just sent her a mental nudge that he'd be there in a few minutes. He sounded a little troubled, and she wondered what had happened. She'd have to figure out a way to bring it up at the dinner table if it looked serious enough.

"So," she said, laying down the plates, "Everything okay with Hank?"

"He's wary," Charles admitted, "But he's alright. I just...just needed to understand why he's worried."

"And you do understand, don't you?" asked Moira.

Charles gave a reluctant nod, and Moira sighed. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder

"Charles, you know better than anyone what he's worried about," she said, "Some of the students already know they had a former terrorist walking around the halls."

"I know," said Charles, "And I understand why everyone is concerned. It's just..."

She used her other hand to cup his cheek.

"Shhh," she said, "I just had to know you understand. You don't have to fight me. I know why you want to do this."

He tilted his head and kissed the hand that was on his shoulder.

"I'm glad," he said.

Moira smiled at him, but the door started to open. She moved away from Charles slightly as Kevin walked in, a book in his hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder. His expression was glum, and Moira saw Charles narrow his eyes in thought.

"How was school Kevin?" she asked.

"Okay," said Kevin.

He put down his book and backpack before climbing into his chair.

"It's lasagna tonight," she said.

"Okay," Kevin said.

A glimmer of true worry started to wriggle itself into her head. Lasagna was one of his favorite dishes. Time to go for broke.

"And chocolate pudding for dessert," she said.

"Okay."

 _Moira...is there something I should know?_ Charles said.

 _You know about as much as I do_ , she shrugged.

She sat down, but neither she nor Charles made a move toward the food.

"Kevin, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Come now," said Charles, "You're not going to get off that easy you know."

"Nothing's wrong," Kevin said, "Everything's okay. I'm okay."

His voice wasn't defensive, just vaguely puzzled. It wasn't an unfamiliar tone. It was something Kevin would bring to the table after seeing a worrying piece of world news, or getting a bad grade on a test.

Besides, she knew her son well enough to recognize when he emphasized the fact that he was okay. That didn't mean someone else was okay.

"Kevin, is someone hurt?" asked Moira.

"No..." said Kevin, picking up his fork and bouncing it lightly on the table, "Not...no. They're not hurt."

"That was not reassuring," Charles said.

"It's okay."

"Kevin, even you sound like you don't believe that," said Charles.

Kevin put the fork down and folded his arms, his expression miserable. Moira was surprised they'd moved to folded arms that fast. Usually she'd have to circle back after changing the subject once. Then again, it had been years since Joe had shown interest in Kevin's life. Perhaps he just wasn't used to having two people prodding an open wound.

"You can tell us you know," Moira said, "If you haven't done anything wrong, you won't get in trouble."

"I don't want them to get into trouble either," muttered Kevin.

That was new. She glanced at Charles, who folded his hands.

"If someone needs help Kevin, you need to say something," said Charles.

Kevin slumped, and Moira knew they'd won.

"We were in the library and Jean came in," Kevin said, his tone grudging, "And she was being nice, and she told Laura her name. Then Laura said something really, really mean."

Laura? The name surprised her. From everything she'd seen, Laura was almost painfully anxious to please. She was so curious about the world, but embarrassment and self-consciousness were slowly becoming known to her.

She couldn't imagine her saying anything that bad.

"What did she say?" asked Moira.

"I can't tell you."

"Kevin-"

"I'll get in trouble!" he said.

Moira raised an eyebrow. From his side of the table, Charles tapped the side of his head. Looking grateful, Kevin nodded. Charles closed his eyes for a minute, and then they flew open. He looked like someone had smacked him in the face with a plate.

Although his expression alarmed her, she wasn't about to be left out of important information.

"Charles? What did she say?" asked Moira.

 _She said Emma said Jean was a goddamn bitch._

Moira gaped. The idea of those words coming out of a six-year-old's mouth was bad enough, but to Jean? The girl who was just starting to feel comfortable in the simulations, the one who seemed torn between wanting to hide and make friends?

She turned to Kevin, struggling for the words to say.

"Well, I'm glad you knew you weren't supposed to say that," Moira managed.

"And she said it like it was no big deal!" said Kevin, "Like we were doing something wrong by staring at her!"

Oh no. Had they stared? Had Laura even understood what was happening?

"I mean, I know they didn't have like books and TV, and they hurt her where she was, but that's really mean!" Kevin said, "And even if she was repeating it, she'd just met Jean!"

"Kevin, it's more than a matter of her not having books or TV," said Charles.

Her son looked at him, perplexed.

 _I think it's time we elaborate a little further._

 _Agreed,_ said Moira, _I think this might have been...I think we didn't really have an idea of just how innocent Laura is. Not really._

Charles nodded and Moira sighed.

"Kevin, she might have been in that place her whole life," said Moira, "And those people did more than hurt her: they were cruel. She didn't know anyone cared about her until her aunt came, and that was only a month ago. I think she has no idea what those words meant, and was simply repeating what she heard, perhaps hoping you would understand and her lack of knowledge wouldn't show."

Kevin blinked, looking at her as though she might be joking.

"She's had a difficult life and she's trying to adjust," said Charles, "She learned to read a few weeks ago, and she took to it rather well, but she's trying to fit in. You might have been shocked by this, but imagine that you're her. You've just said something that you didn't understand, and suddenly everyone is staring at you, and you realize you've done something wrong: you just don't know what it is."

"I'd be scared," Kevin murmured.

"Yes. I believe so," said Charles.

There was a moment when Kevin looked down at his plate. Next to him, his fork rattled once or twice.

" _Peter Pan_ might be too hard for her," he murmured, "And I asked..."

"Sorry?" asked Charles.

Kevin shook his head, and then he slid off his chair.

"Where are you going?" asked Moira.

"I think she thinks I'm angry," said Kevin, "I need to let her know I'm not. I'll be back in ten minutes, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, he darted off.

* * *

When he found her, she was in the kitchen. The water was running from the faucet, coating her hands. She looked up when he came in, then immediately blushed and looked at her hands.

Kevin shifted his feet, feeling embarrassed. How was he even supposed to start? Even with everything he'd just heard, it felt as though he didn't know what to do. It had seemed so obvious when he was in the dining room, but now, now it wasn't.

He moved a little closer, and noticed Laura was just running her hands under water, not trying to watch them.

"Are you out of soap?" he ventured.

"No," she said, "It feels good."

"Where's your aunt?"

"I told her I'd be back in a minute," said Laura, "But the bathroom was too crowded."

She ducked her head again, her face flaming. Why was she embarrassed abut that? He wondered how it felt to never see anything, and then to run out into a world filled with books, running water, people.

Kevin wondered just how lost she was.

"I wasn't mad at you earlier, you know," he said.

Laura looked up, biting her lip.

"I'm serious," he said, "It's just, I'm not allowed to say those words. My mom would get mad. Kids don't usually say them."

"I was just repeating what my aunt told me," said Laura, "I thought...I thought..."

She shook her head, and stared back down at her hands.

"I'm not mad," said Kevin, "I was just surprised."

Laura didn't take her hands out of the sink, or even move.

"But you were frowning. And Jean was upset," Laura said.

"Well, they're mean words," explained Kevin, "And Jean's been really nice to me, helping me control my gifts and all that. She's a really nice person. So I was hurt that you called her that, and so was she."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," said Laura, sniffling, "I just...I don't know what those words mean!"

He saw tears in her eyes, and took a step closer, anxious that she not cry.

"I get it," he said soothingly, "You're not mean. That's why I didn't get those words."

Laura paused, then looked defensive.

"Are you saying my aunt's mean?" she demanded.

Kevin blinked, trying to figure out if there was a right answer to that. If anything, he thought Emma was just cold and brittle. He didn't have much contact with her, and he wondered now if that was because he was with Jean so much.

However, obviously she meant a lot to Laura. He wasn't going to get her upset over what might be nothing.

"Well, maybe she said them in a tone, like it was a joke, or maybe it wasn't mean, but something like that," said Kevin weakly, "A lot of older people use words that are mean, but they say them in weird ways, and apparently that changes them."

It sounded strange, but he'd seen it.

"That makes no sense," Laura said.

"I don't think it does either, but they do," Kevin shrugged.

She looked at him for a moment longer, and her teeth slowly pulled away from her lip.

"So...you're not mad at me, and you don't think I'm mean?" she asked.

"No," said Kevin, "You're actually pretty cool."

It was true. Laura was the type of girl he might have been friends with even outside the Institute. She wasn't always angry and she didn't snicker at people behind their backs. She just wanted to find out more, and to not stand out too much.

Kevin could sympathize.

"The water is cold," she said.

"No, it means you're good," explained Kevin, "It means we're friends."

He smiled, and he saw Laura's eyes light up. She smiled back almost eagerly, and Kevin wondered what it was exactly she liked so much about smiles. Maybe though, if no one had smiled at him before a month ago, he'd be obsessed with smiles too.

"Now come on," he said, "I've got to go to back to dinner soon, but, you know, maybe after we can start reading the books for our book reports."

"Oh," said Laura, "I want to, I really do, but I can't."

"Why not?" he asked.

She looked down at her hand.

"It hasn't stopped," she said, "The cold feels good, but it hasn't stopped yet. It usually stops by now."

Careful not to frown, Kevin wasn't sure what she would or wouldn't worry over, he walked over. Laura didn't seem perturbed by his closeness, even moving over so he could step up onto the stool with her.

His stomach lurched. The sink was filled with pink water and foam, dyed by the blood that was trickling out of Laura's rapidly bluing hands. Almost unbidden, his eyes followed the stream of blood to her knuckles, all fourteen of them, where two seemed to be, slowly but surely, breaking free from her skin.

"I can't feel my hands any more," Laura said, her tone matter-of-fact, "And, you're kind of blurry."

She started to slump, looking surprised as she did so. Kevin quickly caught her, yanking her frozen hands away from the sink. She looked panicked at his sudden grasp, one of her hands flying out. It scraped his face, and he felt blood smear on his cheek.

He could tell she was scared, and maybe grabbing her hadn't been a good idea. But he had to get her away from the sink, had to do something. Whatever she was doing wasn't good, or maybe it just wasn't helping.

Kevin shook his head, trying to figure out a way to make her understand.

"Laura, this isn't good for you," he said, "It's not stopping the bleeding, just making your hands cold, but it's gonna be okay, okay? I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Oh, okay," she said.

They stumbled and one of her shoes came off. Laura blinked a few times as Kevin helped her into a seated position on the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," said Kevin, "Don't be sorry. It's okay. You didn't hurt me, not really. "

He touched her hands. They were ice cold, but blood was still trickling from her knuckles. He looked around, his eyes darting back and forth. He could see that the shoe that had come off was filled with blood. A trail of it led to her foot.

When he really looked, he could see the blood stain on her sock. On the other foot, he could see it peeping up above the shoe line. Kevin realized that, whether or not Laura understood, she might be bleeding to death.

 _Why are you crying? Are you a little girl? Did I get a daughter instead of a son? Get up!_

 _His ribs hurt, and he wasn't bleeding, but he felt like he was dying. All he could do was curl up-_

Fear choked him, and in blind panic, he reached out.

 _MOM! DAD!_


	12. Chapter 12

"Are you okay Em?"

Emma frowned and looked at the clock. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

"It's been a while," Emma said, "Do you think Laura's sick or something?"

Her friend frowned, then looked over at Megan, who was reading a book.

"Was she sick in class today?" asked Amanda.

"She wasn't sick," said Megan, "I mean, not that I could see. She said something I didn't quite understand when we were in the library, so I'm not one hundred percent sure."

Emma felt a small thread of worry, and she looked at the clock again. Would Laura be embarrassed if she went into the bathroom after her? Probably, but she could pretend she was brushing her teeth.

"What do you mean?" asked Amanda, sitting down next to Megan.

"I can't repeat it, because I couldn't catch the words, and then she left, so I couldn't ask her," said Megan, "Maybe you could ask Kevin or Jean. They were there."

"They were?" asked Emma sharply.

Megan nodded, and looked down at her book. Her brow was furrowed slightly, as though she was just starting to figure out something was wrong. Emma, however started to feel her stomach churn.

No, Jean couldn't have done anything. Jean was a bitch, but she didn't think she was the type to hurt children. The Professor wouldn't allow something like that. It wasn't who he was.

There was a knock on the door, and Emma sighed, relieved. Perhaps Laura had just gotten distracted by something. That happened often enough. She crossed the room and opened the door, only to feel her expression freeze.

"Um, can we talk?" asked Jean.

Emma leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know," she said, "Can you?"

It was, perhaps, childish, but her heart was beating rapidly beneath her white flannel pajams. Amanda had gotten up, momentarily leaving Megan on her bunk. She smiled brightly at Jean, but seemed a little nervous.

Emma didn't blame her.

"I just, um, away from little ears?" Jean asked, flushing and tilting her head at Megan.

"Sure," said Emma, "Amanda, do you have a minute? Jean needs to talk."

"Oh no, I didn't mean both of you," said Jean hurriedly, "I just...I just need to talk to Emma."

No way in hell was she going to be alone with her.

"Amanda, could you stay with us for this?" asked Emma, "I'm sure this won't take too long."

Amanda looked uncertain and, again, Emma didn't blame her. She wouldn't usually put this kind of pressure on her friend, but being alone with Jean was a hell filled with very peculiar memories. While Jean was being very shy, stupid and uncertain, Emma wasn't sure something wouldn't go down.

She wouldn't let her see she got to her though. Her mother had taught her better than that when she was learning how to walk.

"Jean, is that okay?" asked Amanda.

Jean swallowed, and then nodded. Emma shut the door with a click.

"So, what's so important?" she asked, "And hurry up. Laura's on her way back."

"That's what I want to talk about."

Emma narrowed her eyes.

"What about her?" she said, her voice low.

To her surprise, Jean looked down, uncomfortable. Seriously?

"We were all in the library earlier, me, Megan, Laura, Kevin," said Jean, "And Laura said she had to lave, because she wasn't allowed to be around me."

"What?" asked Amanda.

Emma kept her face neutral. She could, of course, remember telling Laura such a thing. However, could Jean really blame her for that?

"And then she.." Jean said, looking pained, "She said that you told her I was a goddamn bitch and she wasn't allowed to be around me."

Amanda jolted in surprise next to her. For the first time in the encounter, Emma felt a thread of embarrassment. She uncrossed her arms and fluffed her hair. Great. Laura had done that in front of her friend and the boy she might have a crush on. While Megan clearly didn't understand, Kevin must have.

"That's...look," she said, "Laura's still learning what certain words mean. I obviously need to have a talk to her about curses, things she really shouldn't say. I'm glad it didn't happen in front of a teacher, but that's going to be embarrassing to explain to Megan and Kevin."

Emma sighed.

"Thanks for telling me though," she said, "I'll give you that. Now I have to make sure she doesn't end up getting her mouth washed out with soap by some faculty moron. Do people still do that?"

Both Amanda and Jean were staring at her.

"Never mind, not important," said Emma.

She turned to go, her mind running through some basics she'd have to tell Laura.

"You saying that about me was uncalled for."

Emma stopped. Her mind flared and, for a minute, she could almost feel the flames licking her skin. She swallowed, wanting to run and cry, but what would her mother say to that? What would Kayla, the strong one, think?

So, instead, she turned around slowly, her fists and jaw clenched. Jean was taking a deep breath, as though she was the brave one standing up to some bully. Hypocritical little bitch.

"Emma, that's...that's not you," Amanda said, "You barely know Jean, and that's-"

"I know enough about Jean," said Emma, trying to keep from snapping at Amanda, a girl who had been kept off to the side during the entirety of the Muir assault, "And no, for your information, I'm not sorry I said those things. And yes, they were called for, because you are a goddamn bitch. Get it?"

Jean flinched, and Emma almost laughed. She'd been frightened of her? God, was she like a bee, that stung only once and then crumpled?

"Emma!" Amanda said.

"No," said Emma, "Don't defend her. You seriously come up to my room, and start telling me about how you're some little victim? Sorry, but that's not true. I've known exactly what kind of person you are from the second we met."

"We barely even spoke," said Jean, confused.

"Seriously?" asked Emma, "We didn't speak at all! But now, you knew exactly how to act, didn't you?"

Jean looked back at her for a moment, then Emma saw her face change. Oh, so she got it now. Emma shook her head in disgust and turned on her heel. She'd put her hand on the doorknob when she heard a new voice.

 _Emma, we need you to come down to the kitchen immediately,_ the Professor said, _Something...Laura's hurt._

She whipped around and took off running down the hallway. It sounded like Amanda had called after her, but she didn't have time to investigate. Her limbs, after so long dealing with malnutrition, were fighting her. They wanted to stop.

But she couldn't. Laura was hurt. The words ran through her head, and she wanted to be sick. Oh God in heaven, what was happening? Had she fallen? But, no. Laura didn't get hurt, she healed.

A small crowd had gathered outside the kitchen by the time she got there. She shoved through them, although a few did part with relative ease. Scott was at the door, trying to calm some of the students there. The minute he saw her he opened the door. She didn't even look at him when she ran in.

Laura was laying on the floor, her head on Kevin's shoulder. His face was smeared with blood, his expression one of severe shell-shock. His mother sat next to them, and Hank was nearby, digging through what looked like a doctor's bag.

They blurred. She was surprised that she'd even taken them in, because blood had trickled from Laura's hands and feet, had gathered into small puddles on the ground. It was everywhere, and a faint buzzing began in her head.

Everything else disappeared. She wanted to scream. She wanted to faint. She wanted to kill whoever had done this.

But they weren't options. So, instead, she swallowed her fear and knelt next to Laura, whose eyes were barely open.

"Sorry Aunt Emma..." Laura mumbled.

"Don't be sorry," said Emma, her tongue feeling thick, "I...you haven't done anything wrong."

Laura just looked at her woozily. Emma smiled and kissed her forehead. She swallowed, and then looked at Kevin.

"I can take her now," she said.

"Don't move her," said Hank.

She looked at him, feeling alarm. Was it that bad? Laura healed. Yes, she was bleeding, but she was going to stop any second.

 _Emma._

She started, and then let out a small breath. When she did, the room came back into focus, and she realized the Professor was there, as well as Peter. Peter was chewing, on his gum or his tongue, she couldn't tell.

For his part, the Professor looked pale. However, he moved forward.

 _We need to talk like this so we don't alarm your niece,_ said the Professor, _But Hank thinks she has new bones coming in, part of her mutation. They're not quite right though, so they're plowing their way through her hands and feet, constantly causing new damage. She's not getting a chance to heal. He thinks they're broken, and that's why they're coming out of her hands and feet when they should lie along other bones. They're almost...sliding, he thinks._

She really did feel sick now. Emma pulled herself closer, putting one of her hands on Laura's forehead.

 _She's bleeding rapidly, and he believes he needs to operate, cut inside her hands, break them, reset them._

 _Then he needs to get to work_ , Emma said.

 _He will, in a minute,_ said the Professor, _He's getting an IV set up. Peter's a universal donor, and Hank has some blood in reserve. It won't be enough in a minute-_

"Get to work!" Emma snapped at Hank.

Hank didn't look up from what he was doing, just kept filling a blood bag, his eyes elsewhere.

 _Emma, stop! If he goes in blind, he could cause irreparable damage to your niece,_ said the Professor, _Emma, is there anything you know that could help us? Any idea of what these bones are supposed to do, supposed to look like? Is this inherited?  
_

 _No!_ Emma snapped, _Kayla was...she was like me! Our mother was like me! She wasn't...she didn't...I've never heard of this!_

 _It might be recessive_ , said the Professor, _But it might have come from the father's side._

 _I didn't know him,_ she said.

 _I think you did._

She looked at him, shocked, and then angry.

 _I didn't know him! Laura was born after Kayla and I got separated!_

 _Emma, I didn't want to call you on this because I believed you had your reasons, but I have done the math,_ said the Professor, _You said schooling ended when you were thirteen, I'm guessing because of Essex. You are sixteen. Laura is six. That makes no sense. There is no possible way she could've been born after you were captured.  
_

Emma looked desperately at Laura, at how limp she was. Her eyes were fluttering closed, but Kevin jostled her awake, alarmed. Next to him, Moira tightened her grip on his shoulder.

 _If he was a man you didn't trust, if it was something terrible, then, normally, perhaps it doesn't matter. But right now, it does._

 _I didn't know him,_ Emma said, _I didn't...Professor, Laura...she's got Kayla's genes. That's close enough, isn't it? That's...she's still family! What does it matter?_

 _I...I'm afraid I don't understand._

Tears were threatening to burst from Emma's eyelids. Laura's blood was finding a way to smear on her white pajamas, and she felt her world crumbling. She wanted to scream again, but not just for Laura's pain. She'd fought so hard to try and give Laura normal things, but it appeared Essex had never wanted that for her.

Now though, she had to save her niece. She could try to salvage normal later.

 _She's a clone,_ Emma managed, _They took my sister's DNA, and they made her._

The Professor stared at her.

 _I saw it in Martinique's head,_ she said, _They took her blood...she didn't know. Martinique thought it was funny..._

 _Was...was there a father?_

 _No. I mean, there was a male genetic donor...but I didn't see a mutation!_ cried Emma, _They just took his genes too, no big deal to those assholes. Just...he was just some big Canadian guy named Logan._

The Professor's eyes lit up. He jerked his head to the side.

"Hank, she's Logan's daughter!" he said.

For a second, Hank paused, then looked at Laura's hands. His face set.

"Right," he said, "I need to get these back on track. Now."

Laura stirred weakly.

"Daddy?" she murmured, "I have a...?"

"Shhhh," said Emma, "Shhhh...it's going to be fine."

 _Who the hell is Logan?_ she demanded.

 _Someone Hank and I met_ , the Professor said, _But we know what his mutation is, and you may have saved your niece's life. Hank knows what these are supposed to do now._

Hank pulled several tools out of his bag, including a syringe. He looked over at Laura, his face pained.

"Laura, this may hurt a bit," he said, "But I need to put you under. I'm just trying to make you better."

Laura nodded weakly.

"I know..." she managed, "You're nice and...Aunt...Aunt Emma, she...she'll take care of me."

Emma leaned down and kissed the top of Laura's head, the tears coming thick as Hank slipped the needle into her nieces skin. Yes, she would take care of her. She'd take care of her with every ounce of her soul until the day she died, even if all she could do at the moment was weep.


	13. Chapter 13

Even before Kevin heard the first crunch of bone, he knew that night would be a night he would never forget. Only a few hours earlier he had boastingly levitated a book into Laura's hands. Now, they were bleeding onto her dress, onto him, onto the floor.

In the moments before Charles had sent Peter to his side, already bearing Hank, Kevin had felt as though he might be sick. Laura had just looked at him, like she didn't understand what the fuss was about. She'd even said, once, that it was only blood: Why was he sad?

He'd just kept repeating it was okay, that it would be okay, like he was an idiot. His mother had come, along with Charles, and she'd held him, since Hank said Laura couldn't be moved. She'd also told him to close his eyes, covered his ears, but he'd heard that first crunch.

During the whole time, Laura had felt so limp. He knew she was asleep, but that wasn't good enough. Not when he knew Hank was practically mauling her hands and feet to save her life. He kept telling himself she would heal, but he thought of his own broken ribs, of feeling helpless in the woods as trees shattered around him.

This night would join that night in his memory as times he would never scrub himself free of. It was right there with his mother looking pale in a hospital gown, put there by his father, and the night when he heard someone had taken her away like a princess in a fairy tale. But there had been nothing glamorous about that night, nor any of the others.

Kevin felt himself wanting to pull away, to hide in his mother's arms, but he couldn't move. No. Instead, he was locked into the strange moment, the injured in his arms, his mother behind his back, blood everywhere.

His mother's hands lifted from his ears, and Kevin's eyes flew open. Hank was finishing his job, wiping blood onto a towel near his bag. Laura's hands were swathed in bandages, as were her feet. Emma's face was stained in tears, and, in that moment, Kevin wondered why he had ever thought her cold and brittle, because she was melting now.

"We should have Laura taken downstairs for observation," Hank murmured, "She's running a slight fever, and the skin around her hands is flushed."

"But her bones, her...her claws," said Emma, her words halting, "They'll...they won't do anything, right?"

"They'll be fine," said Hank, "They weren't...something went wrong when the genes transferred. They needed to be put in their own track, but, and this is going to sound like a really stupid thing for someone who's studied genetics to say, the claws aren't a desirable trait to be passed down. Not in humans."

He shook his head.

"It'll hurt every time they come out, and that's just looking at this in its normal state," he said, "But Essex screwed up somewhere along the line. Maybe he didn't transfer an antigen, not enough calcium, I don't know."

Kevin stared. This wasn't just Laura's mutation? Someone had done this to her? The thought temporarily numbed his mind as he stared at the girl now asleep on his shoulder, still smeared with her own blood and water.

 _Laura breathed out and looked over at Kevin. Her eyes were still wide and curious, but there was a touch of openness there too. She smiled, a smile that was mostly teeth, but still friendly._

"Kevin?"

He looked up, and saw Emma looking at him. She breathed out and cupped his cheek. He stared at her.

"You saved her life tonight," Emma said, "Thank you so much. And for...I..."

She shook her head.

"Thank you," she said.

A lump formed in his throat and he stared, unable to fully speak. Emma withdrew her hand almost timidly, before looking behind him. Kevin turned and saw that Charles had wheeled up so that he was seated behind Kevin's mother.

"You two are raising a really good one here," Emma murmured.

Something clenched inside his chest, and he remembered the words he'd screamed at the height of his fear. Neither his mother nor Charles seemed perturbed by Emma's reference, nor did they seem on edge because of his words. He hoped sincerely that they weren't thinking of it. He didn't want to embarrass either of them.

"Best we get her down to where we can monitor her, clean her up," said Hank, "Charles, can you make sure we don't have an audience out there."

Charles put his fingers to his temples briefly, and then nodded.

"All clear."

Hank finished putting his things away and, in a movement that surprised Kevin with its swiftness, scooped Laura up. His arm, which had gone numb, screamed with pins and needles Emma rose with Hank, her hand on her niece's forehead, looking anxiously to Hank for reassurance.

"She's okay," Hank said, "But there are going to be certain matters we need to discuss. You shouldn't have hidden this from us. I need to know her medical history, and we don't know what else is in store."

Emma looked back at him, her clear blue eyes wide and unblinking.

"She deserved more."

With a sigh, Hank nodded and headed toward the door. Emma hovered by him, her own pajamas splattered with blood. he watched the three of them, their words confusing, but their meaning fairly plain.

Hands wrapped around him, and he turned and saw his mother. She kissed his forehead, and Kevin could feel something welling up deep inside of him. Yet, when it broke, he shed no tears, screamed no screams. All he did was reach out, hug her, let her know something really was okay.

"You've been so brave," she said, "You are so very, very brave."

"What Emma said was true. You've saved her tonight you know," Charles said, "If you hadn't been here, she might have bled to death. Thank you for calling us."

Kevin just held his mother, blinking again and again. He wished he was crying. No one would've blamed him for crying. He'd just spent what felt like an eternity blanketed in blood and death. No one would blame him for crying.

But he didn't cry, and the next few minutes passed like a blur. Moira carried him up to the bathroom, and he convinced her it was alright to leave him alone to shower. All he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but he would not do so with Laura's blood still all over him. If he left it on much longer, he knew he'd never sleep again.

The water poured down on him, and he felt her blood wash off. He wanted to scrub his skin until it was raw, but he didn't. Whatever had broken inside him hadn't resulted in tears, but a heavy thoughtfulness, his mind both blank and jumping.

When he was done, his mother and Charles were outside waiting for him.

"Do you want me to sleep in your room tonight?" his mother asked, "You don't have to do this alone."

Kevin looked up at her, his mind blank. Did he want her presence that night? He felt that thoughtful heaviness in him again, and he shook his head. What he wanted to do was sleep, sleep and not think and not wake up.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I think I'll be fine," said Kevin, "But...if I need you...I'll..."

He put two fingers to his head, and Moira nodded. She knelt down and kissed him again. Charles squeezed his shoulder. Both of them went with him to his room, tucking him in as though he were a baby, and, for that night, he didn't care.

Kevin closed his eyes, knowing that sleep wouldn't come, the thoughtfulness still weighing down on him.

 _I heard what you said tonight you know, what you called me._

His eyes opened slowly, and his breath stilled.

 _Charles began stroking his hair, shifting him so his arm was wrapped around his shoulder._

 _"When I was younger, my stepfather used to threaten to put out cigarettes in my hand," said Charles, "Me and my stepbrother. Not my sister: he didn't care about her. He never did the cigarettes, I don't know why. But I did grow up trying to explain away black eyes and bruises, because what could I say? What could I do? It felt like the answer was nothing."_

 _Kevin looked up, and blue eyes stared back at him, not thoughtful, but instead filled with sympathy, with that same understanding he'd encountered the day he'd heard voices echoing in his head._

 _"Just know that you're safe here," said Charles, "And while I truly believe your mother should know this, I believe it should come from you. Not from me"_

 _Charles breathed in and, for the first time, Kevin realized he could hear Charles's heart hammering against his chest._

 _"But, know one thing," Charles said, "I pity anyone who tires to hurt you Kevin. Because that is not something that will happen ever again."_

 _And, looking at Charles's expression, at the tightness of his jaw, the determination, Kevin believed him._

He bit his lip, feeling his hands clutch the blanket tighter. The fog around his mind was clearing a little, but it was still frightening. He didn't know what he was experiencing, or even what was going on.

All he knew was that he didn't want Charles to be embarrassed or angry at him for calling him 'dad.' He just wanted him to be happy.

 _Kevin, I've heard your thoughts for some time accidentally. I...I've never been a father,_ Charles said, _I never thought I would have the chance. But...I want you to know...I want you to know that I don't think I could ever love any child born to me as much as I love you._

All around him, Kevin felt the world blur.

 _"So the baby is Charles's?" he said._

 _"Yes," Moira said._

 _A small grin broke out on his face._

 _"I'm glad he loves you that much," he said, "And I'm glad you love him too."_

 _His grin broadened._

 _"Jane Austen," he said._

 _He was going to be a big brother. He was going to have a sibling. And the child wasn't going to have Kevin's dad raising them and kicking them and hating them. No, they would have Charles, and he would love them and care for them._

 _Maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright soon._

 _"He loves you too you know," Moira said._

He swallowed hard. No tears were coming, but he felt himself reaching out, wanting that future, him, his mother, the baby, and Charles as his father. Kevin wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything, even when he was little and wished his biological father would be hit by a car.

 _If you wanted to call me that instead of Charles...Kevin, I'm honored that you think of me that way,_ said Charles, _I truly, truly am. I want things to be that way for us, and when..._

Through their bond, Kevin could almost feel Charles reach out and take his mother's hand. Moira, he called her.

 _When the baby comes, I want all of us to be a family,_ said Charles, I _'ve wanted that for so long, longer than I've even known you. And...to have you call me that tonight, and in your time of need...I'm honored._

Kevin closed his eyes.

 _I love you dad,_ he said.

 _I love you too Kevin._


	14. Chapter 14

Although Mystique had never liked Emma's mother and namesake, she couldn't help but be quietly impressed with the girl in front of her. She wasn't sleeping, just sitting next to her niece, her hand stroking her hair from time to time.

The only time she ever seemed to say anything was when Hank asked her a question. While she knew the most about Laura's medical history, she didn't actually know too much. There were so many variables, and she could tell Hank was struggling to piece some of it together.

However, the bones had been fixed, which was the big issue. Her body was healing, but Hank said the massive blood loss she'd experienced had slowed down her healing factor. He'd gone to go find Peter who, after his next transfusion, would have given the maximum healthy amount of blood for the next few months.

Hank had pleaded with her to stay with Emma while he did so. Mystique had been slightly irritated at being woken up, but she'd understood why it was necessary. Charles and Moira were off making sure Kevin wasn't traumatized. Really, by this point, it was likely the boy was tough as nails.

Laura would have to become so too. Emma reached out, slowly, touching her niece's face for what seemed like the millionth time. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her entire frame looking on the verge of collapse. She wasn't faltering though, and her expression was more intense than anything else.

"Peter and Kurt don't have fathers do they?"

The words sent a jolt through Mystique. She started forward, but Emma was still cupping Laura's face, not even looking at Mystique. Had she actually asked that question? She certainly didn't look like she had.

"I know Kurt doesn't have parents, Amanda mentioned it," Emma continued, still not looking up, "But I'm not sure about Peter."

For a moment, Mystique quietly struggled against the thudding of her heart. Ever since they had rescued Moira, she'd fought herself when it came to what to say or do with Kurt. Some part of her had wanted to step up, tell him he was her son, born of a love that had ended in death. The other part consumed her thoughts when she woke every day, telling her to leave before she ruined his life.

After a moment, she managed to speak.

"Whatever you're thinking, it can wait," she said, "It's 3 a.m.. You need to get some sleep."

Emma gave her a side look before resting her chin on her hand.

"Mother always said you were never very helpful," she said.

Mystique narrowed her eyes, feeling her goodwill toward the girl rapidly dissipate. How much had Emma's mother told her exactly? A swirl of smoke and a soft explosion made her whirl around, gawking as Kurt stood awkwardly near Emma, a coat hastily thrown over his pajamas.

"Vhat did you need?" he asked, looking at Emma.

"You woke him up?" asked Mystique.

"I asked him for his help," said Emma, "His and Peter's when he gets here. Communicating is pretty easy when you're a telepath. Would've done it with Peter to get him down here, but Hank said it wasn't urgent and he wanted me 'rested.'"

She snorted quietly. A few seconds later, Peter zipped into the room, his arm around Hank's shoulders. Peter whipped off his coat and sat down at the table next to some of Hank's equipment, baring his arm as Hank began to prep the transfusion.

"Hank, you knew Laura's father?" asked Emma.

Hank paused momentarily in the process of cleaning Peter's skin. He sighed and began digging around in his bag.

"He helped us save the world," Hank said.

"Don't exaggerate," sighed Mystique, "He helped you save the President, some generals, cabinet members, and an industrialist."

Hank glared at her, but she gave him an even look back. What had she said that was wrong exactly? True, her actions that day had created a 'better' world, one where people had to be polite to mutants. But even if she had shot Trask, would things really have been that bad?

"What was he like?" asked Emma.

A look of discomfort passed over Hank's face, but he didn't stop working. Because Emma wasn't facing him, Mystique knew she hadn't caught it. From the frown on Peter's face, however, she could tell he had.

"He was...difficult to pin down," said Hank, "Had a temper. But...I think...I think he's the kind of man who wants to do the right thing. When, you know, given a chance."

Emma let go of her niece's face and moved her hand so it was gently squeezing Laura's.

"Peter, Kurt," she said, "Everyone else who has to be here, what I'm about to tell you isn't private so much as something I've never found a need to discuss. I feel no shame concerning it. It's just how it was."

The teen rolled her shoulders and tilted her head up.

"You all know I had a sister. I grew up with her and her father for, oh, ages four and onward," she said, "My mother was a frequent visitor, but she had a price on her head. And, one day, I asked her if, like Kayla, I had a father."

Both Peter and Kurt were looking at Emma now, their faces scrunched up in rapt attention. The only one who seemed to just work through it all was Hank, now that the questions about Logan were over.

"She told me, not in so many words, he was a one-night stand," Emma said, "I didn't understand what she was trying to get at then, I only just started to figure out what happened when I was thirteen, but she told me he wasn't someone who needed to be in my life. It had been transitory, and the relationship had meant nothing to either of them."

From his seat on the chair, Peter's foot began tapping rapidly on the ground.

"I went on to be raised by Kayla's father who, according to family legend, had been my mother's first love," said Emma, "Her family didn't approve, made her think she'd miscarried the baby, kept him away. By the time she found out it had been so much bullshit, I was four. They reconciled but, well, he wasn't a father to me. Not that he didn't like me but...it just wasn't there. He was more like an uncle."

Kurt had taken a seat now. Although Mystique wanted to leave, she supposed there wasn't any real reason for her to be there any more, she felt terrified of where this conversation was going. Surely Emma wasn't going to ask what she thought she was.

"My mother died when I was six. He died when I was ten, and Kayla raised me from there," said Emma, "And I can tell you, in all honesty, that I have thought of my father exactly three times before tonight: once, when the initial curiosity sparked, then when I asked my mother, and then when I figured out it had just been a hook-up. I have never cried over not knowing him, never really cared."

She turned away from Laura and locked eyes with Peter and Kurt.

"I've been led to believe that, maybe, that's not normal," she said, "And...now that I believe Laura's father is alive, I'm faced with a bit of an issue.."

Emma breathed out.

"I need to know if you two minded not knowing exactly where you came from," she said, "Laura's very...she...I think she hasn't been alive for very long, and the idea of parents and family are very nebulous to her. I don't want to hurt or or make her feel a certain way, but I want to try and find out if it's something I should pursue-"

"Yes."

The girl looked at Peter who, despite having an IV sticking in his arm, was leaning forward, licking his lips.

"Like, Emma, it's cool that it didn't matter for you," he said, "I'm glad you don't have any issues. That's great. But I...I did. I found out that the guy my mom wanted me to believe was my dad wasn't, and he told me that he wished my mom had miscarried in no uncertain terms when he left. It took my years before my mom would tell me who my dad really was, and even now I just can't..."

He ran his spare hand through his silver hair.

"Look," he said, "I can tell you from personal experience, that the sooner you try and do something about this, the better it'll be for Laura. It just kind of..."

Peter looked at his arm, his eyes following the trail of blood from the needle to the bag. Mystique's mind went back to that day in Cairo, to the way she saw the words choke up in his throat. She'd been shocked and infuriated because, while it wasn't her secret to tell, knowing he had a son would've likely immediately brought Erik to their side.

But now, for the first time, she wondered if he hadn't said anything because he'd been physically unable to do so. There had been too many years weighing him down. too many fears and doubts. Even if it had meant saving the world, the words had been trapped by being told he shouldn't have been born, that he was the wrong man's child.

"...it builds," he said, "And now...now I'm 26, and there's still so much I wanna say. I wanna meet my dad, ask him just a ton of questions. But I...no matter how much I want to, I still struggle. And it sucks, it sucks so damn much, and life's already kinda tough for Laura without adding that shit."

Emma tilted her head, and looked down at her hands. What was she feeling? Guilt for not feeling the same way as Peter did when it came to their fathers?

"It ist different for each person."

No. Mystique looked over in panic to where Kurt was moving closer to the small group, his eyes cast downward. She didn't want to hear this, but leaving now would draw attention to her. The room began to close into her, and she looked at Hank for help.

Instead, he gave her only a small look before taping off the needle in Peter's arm. Those few seconds though, said it all: You need to hear this. She wanted to snarl at him for that presumption, but Kurt was speaking again, and she couldn't stop herself from hearing.

"But...I grew up not knowing who I vas," Kurt said, "I was abandoned. Why? Vhat was so bad that I had to be left behind? Did they look like me? Did they hate me?"

No. No, she hadn't hated him. She'd loved him, and she couldn't keep him.

"Now, I am happy. I haf friends, Amanda is amazing, und I feel like I am doing good things," he continued, "But...I vish more zan anzying...I want the truth. I haf lived seventeen years on this earth, wanting to know ze truth."

Mystique closed her eyes, her hands fisting by her side. The truth? No, he only thought he wanted that. He didn't want to know that his parents were killers, and she had left him because she'd chased a dream and a foolish hope that, maybe, they could all be together again.

But he deserved it, didn't he? It was an old argument, one that went in circles.

"Maybe she vill feel like you," Kurt said, his eyes on the ground, "She will grow up in love, because, u, well, because you love her. She vill know about her mother, but not vhy she was in that place. Not why she had to go through this night. So much of her history vill be lost."

Kurt crouched in front of Emma, who was blinking back tears.

"Do you vant that for her?" asked Kurt, "Do you vant to gamble with her happiness?"

Emma slid slowly out of her chair and hugged Kurt. Her son looked surprised, but made no move to shove her away. A second later, Peter was there, his hand on Emma's shoulder, the band aid still fresh on his arm.

"I need to find Logan, don't I?" asked Emma.

"If he's an asshole, if he's a great guy, at least she'll know," said Peter.

"Yeah," Emma said, "She will."

Mystique walked out of the room then, trying to look casual, almost as though she felt like she could excuse herself. Inside though, old pains were clawing their way to the surface. She ducked into the nearest room, and let them surface, sliding against the nearest wall and down to the floor.

She remembered Kurt as a baby, reaching for her and crying as she left him behind. She had steeled herself, saying she was doing the right thing. There was no way she would have been able to keep him safely, but she'd never forgotten those tiny, three-fingered hands reaching for her, crying for the only home he'd ever known.

Now, he didn't even know who to reach for.


	15. Chapter 15

Charles was already in bed when Moira came in that night, looking tired, but carrying her own stack of papers. For his part, Charles had been sifting through his own file. With everything that had happened after their raid a few days earlier, they hadn't gotten the chance to go through the data Jean and Kurt had fetched from the server. The data about the collars had taken prime importance, as had the discussion about Erik.

However, that night had rapidly shifted the matter. While Essex was known to be experimenting on mutants, a matter that made him shiver even now, creating one and molding them to his specifications was another matter entirely.

As he'd told Emma, it had been clear for a long time that she was lying when it came to Laura. The dates clearly didn't make sense, but he'd been reluctant to push her. She didn't trust him completely, and he'd hoped to gain that trust before he had to discuss the issue.

It hadn't stopped him from discussing the matter with Moira, the reasons Emma might lie. He'd wondered if it was her own inability to speak about how long her entrapment had been, and Moira had wondered if, perhaps, she couldn't admit that her sister had kept a secret from her. At one point, he'd even wondered if the young girl was actually Emma's second sister, and she was trying to hide her from an enemy of their mother.

But, in the end, it just turned out Emma had come as close to the truth as she felt comfortable, the truth as she saw it. And the truth had not only blown all those theories away, but it had raised new, worrying questions.

He shifted in bed, bringing the papers with him. As soon as he'd spoken with Kevin, the only close thing to happiness that could be had from the day, he'd had a word for Moira. He'd taken what papers he had, put on coffee, and gotten to work.

Knowing that Moira had picked up the last pile of papers from the printer was a relief though, and her appearance meant she'd gone through the shipment numbers. While Charles was a certified professor, and his papers had won wide acclaim, the type of data he was looking over right now wasn't strictly genetics. She was the one trained as an analyst.

"What have you found?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing cheering," said Charles, "It's difficult to read, but I believe he's been subjecting mutants to experiments for the past twenty years or so. Some have been willing, others, not so much."

He shifted the papers.

"We can see an uptick in activity after he started working with Stryker, but that's to be expected," he said, "Honestly, these numbers are starting to run together."

She put the papers she was holding down and moved closer. After a moment, she gently pried Charles's fingers off the papers and handed him another sheaf. He gave her a questioning look.

"You need a fresh pair of eyes on this," she said, "And this is actually pretty tightly coded, especially compared to some of the other files I've seen. I think that, what you're specifically looking at right now, are actually files that line up with Stryker's."

"They would file share to that extent?" asked Charles.

"Possibly," she said, "If he's working on something for Stryker, then he'd likely want to know all the details. Stryker's probably picked up some things from working with the number of scientists he has over the past few years, and he'd want to have an active hand in any big projects."

She shook her head.

"He's paranoid, and a control freak," Moira said, "Not a good combination."

"Perhaps in this case, it is," said Charles, picking up his own files, "I haven't found anything specifically on Laura yet. It might be an off-the-books project."

"All of these are off-the-books technically," Moira said, "Any form of experimentation is illegal. They might be forwarding some of their work if they're drug testing, perhaps using steroids or something of that nature, but not actually creating life, especially if the DNA donors were unwilling."

Charles nodded and looked down at his files. The numbers started to blur again, but he had another cup of coffee. Sleep wasn't going to help anything he was feeling at the moment, and they needed to get this done. Erik would be there soon, and it was now clear to him that Stryker and Essex didn't need to be stopped soon: they needed to be stopped immediately.

Moira shifted closer and, barely thinking, Charles wrapped his spare arm around her waist. She didn't comment on it, but simply leaned against him. Not for the first time since Emma's revelation about Laura, he thought about the baby growing inside her. The child had come perilously close to sharing a fate that, while it wouldn't be exactly like Laura's, it would certainly have been terrible.

He swallowed, thinking back to what Essex had said to him about Laura. It made so much more sense now.

 _"Not really a child. More of a science project. A costly, time-consuming science project. But it does look and act exactly like a child, yes."_

His hand tightened on the papers, and he glared down at them. The rage he'd felt when he'd heard that the future he wanted with Moira, the baby, with Kevin, was starting to surface. He closed his eyes for a minute, taking a deep breath and, momentarily at least, leaning his head against Moira's hair. He breathed in the scent, and he felt her shift again, perhaps in confusion

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Just thinking," he said, "I'll be fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He wanted to clutch her to his chest, wanted the baby to be old enough to kick so he could feel them, or to touch the fledgling mind there. Charles wished Kevin was in the room with them, just so he could see he was sleeping peacefully.

But, so that he could do that one day, he had to take care of this now. He looked down at the files and concentrated on the names. They weren't codenames and, he supposed that, in terms of military records, they just looked like a list of operatives who were going on a mission.

It was vague enough really, simply four or five lines of data. The first line was a list of operatives who had been sent out, then the continent, and a year, followed by whether or not the mission had been a success. Any more specific, and perhaps they were afraid of people drawing a connection.

At the same time, a name did stick out to him as he poured over mission after mission: Logan Howlett. He saw that he'd been sent, on numerous occasions, to do operations with someone listed as Victor Creed. That name also rung a bell: the name of the man who Emma had been told killed her sister.

There was, of course, a possibility she was wrong. However, he doubted that Emma would forget or blur names. She had a vengeful streak in her, most likely taught from her mother. From what little Emma had divulged about her life with her namesake, he knew she had taught that, when she was hit, she needed to hit back harder.

He noted the successes that were listed after every mission completed by Logan. What had those successes represented to someone? Had they been about blood spilled, mutants captured, lives fractured?

He wanted to bang his head against the wall, to ask Logan how someone like him could work for someone like Stryker. It filled him with more anguish than he could say that the man who had brought him back to himself was so clearly lost.

Then again, hadn't Logan himself warned him about that? Hadn't he told him that he would one day help him? The Logan he had known and respected was twenty years in the future, a man who knew empathy, whose feral strength was tempered with restraint.

And that made things complicated for Laura. He would have no problem vouching for the Logan he'd known. He'd be talking to Emma right now, letting her know that she should try and make contact. That had been a man he would even trust Kevin with.

But, the Logan now, in 1983, he didn't really know him. And how could he explain that, when he hadn't even told Raven or Moira about their visit from the future. Time travel seemed hazy at best, and there were so many fears wrapped up in it, so many questions they couldn't answer. What if they damaged time by knowing too much?

Even so, why hadn't Logan mentioned this? Did he think it was too much? He had told Logan the names of three of his students, why couldn't he have whispered the name of a child who was, though not born from him, technically his daughter? Had she not existed in his future?

He shook his head and shuffled the paper, feeling defeated. There were no answers to these questions, not really. The question of whether or not they could trust Logan would surface soon though: they might find themselves on the battlefield against him soon.

Charles looked down at the next piece of paper, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Moira," he said.

She looked over, and he pointed to a mission listing near the bottom of the page. While it gave the same kind of information all the other listings had, a new name had been listed in the operatives section: Kayla Silverfox.

"Oh my God," Moira said.

His eyes scanned the paper, flipping it to the next page. Kayla's name began appearing more and more frequently, often alongside Logan's.

"So they knew each other," said Moira.

"Yes, and, as far as I can tell, she was the only woman on the team," Charles said, "I don't...perhaps it's likely they just used her as a convenient source of DNA, one they could get out."

"She'd have good reason to obey," Moira murmured.

He nodded and looked at the next page, the continued list of missions creating a sinking feeling in his gut. Although there were a few failures, he could see them happening with less and less frequency as time went on. Charles supposed that, when your boss told you he'd punish your little sister for any failures, that improved performance.

Then, suddenly, a single line of text appeared. It simply listed Kayla's name with a status underneath it: Rogue. Moira noticed it too.

"She must've had a good reason," she said, "Must've thought...if Emma was on the line, she would have wanted to calculate this carefully. Maybe she saw an opportunity to free her."

Charles nodded, but they both knew that, whatever that opportunity had been, it hadn't been successful. One more mission was listed, taking place in Canada, with all members except her in the list of operatives.

Then, he saw it. It was another single line, listing Logan's name. Next to it, his status was recorded as rogue. Had they escaped together? Had he seen what he was doing, decided to choose a different path? Underneath it, another mission, this one only containing Creed's name.

Finally, the line of text he'd been dreading. Kayla's name had been logged, with her status listed as terminated. Logan's was listed as transferred.

"They wouldn't have transferred him, not after something like this," said Moira.

"Jean told me they found a man when they rescued you and the others in Canada, half mad and violent," he said, "I think...given the Canadian connection, transferred might not be entirely accurate."

Her eyes widened, and she dug through the pages of numbers. She pointed to a series of digits, and Charles gave her a blank look in return.

"Charles, this is a basic code that lists a date and a retrieval team," she said, "Then it's coordinates, in Canada. They sent in a retrieval team after you left, but there's a '0' next to it, and that means failure."

"So, when he escaped..." Charles said.

"I don't think Logan is working for Stryker anymore, and I think he's an individual operative," she said, "But more importantly, the next code is the same date, but it's one of Essex's retrieval teams."

"How do you know the difference?" he asked.

She gave a slight shrug.

"It's the same number as Stryker's, and there's an extra two. I've noticed a pattern from a few months later around the time you rescued me from Muir Island, and Stryker wasn't there," she said, "But that second mission is a success, and there's a special number after it with a letter: X23. That's the kind they use to show an asset, adding a letter."

"So he managed to retrieve something from there, something he wanted?" asked Charles.

"Yes, and it's transferred to Muir Island. But the symbol shows up as 'asset missing' after you rescued me," Moira said, "I think that's Laura. But there's more."

She pointed to one of the more recent logs, and swallowed. He saw X23 appear again, and looked up at her, questioningly.

"If that's Laura, then...I...I don't know for sure," Moira said, "But I believe it is her. And the next digits...they mean 'asset located,' and...the ones after that...'"

Charles felt his stomach churn.

"...that's Westchester's coordinates."


	16. Chapter 16

Hank stumbled away from Laura's hospital room, feeling exhausted and more than a little defeated. He wanted to go to sleep, to take another sick day and pray that, when he woke up, the world would be a little better.

But it wouldn't be. That night, he'd had to cut open a child's hands and reset several bones, all the while making new cuts so it didn't heal over. He'd had to work fast, and, although he tried not to let any of it show, he had, for the first time as a doctor, wanted to throw up.

Then he'd had to repeat the whole process with her feet. It had been worse there than in the hands. The way the bone was directed it would have sliced off her toes if it had ever fully extended the way it was trying to.

He walked into his lab, wonder if just maybe, he could get some sleep there. But he just kept thinking about the way those bones had been growing, as though nature had made some sort of mistake.

Charles had explained to him that it wasn't nature that had made a mistake though: it was Essex. In some way, Hank had known it was coming. While the explanation that she was Logan's daughter was sufficient at the time, he'd known that, really, something was missing.

Logan's claws had been a strangely, yet beautifully, crafted mutation. No, claws weren't meant to break skin. Yes, it likely hurt. Yet, he could have them in his hands, in his arms, without restricting his movement. He slid them out as though they were merely extra fingers, and they were long and viscous-looking.

Laura's claws were a cruel mockery of it, not because of what they were, but because the bone structure hadn't copied right. Instead, he'd had to break and reset her bones, and not just the ones that became claws. Although the only way to know for sure was to ask him, Logan, clearly, had not had this kind of problem with his claws. They were too natural.

He sank down into his oversized chair, and felt a brief stab of anger at Essex. Hank had had his own brief stints playing God, and been punished for them. There were, he'd learned, some boundaries he shouldn't cross. Science and medicine were meant to improve lives, not nurture vanity.

He'd learned his lesson, in ways he was still suffering now. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he wondered what his real face was now. Was it the older, more mature face of the teenage boy who had so foolishly created a serum? Or was it the Beast?

Even when he'd made the serum for Charles, at least he'd been trying to cure him of a physical ailment. That didn't work, but what had truly been wrong with Charles had been something he'd been unable to fix. He'd suffered for it either way, watching one of his only friends deteriorate.

But what infuriated him about Essex was that he didn't have to pay the price for it. He didn't have to be the one bleeding to death in a kitchen, didn't even have to be the one resetting the bones. No, he got to be the puppeteer, to watch from a safe distance to see how the experiment ended.

On every level of who he was, Hank felt disgusted. He clenched his fist, and felt the bristles there. He swallowed and, wearily, got up for another syringe. He had at least fifteen more made up. That would be enough for the next three or four days.

Hank primed the syringe, and then slid the needle under his skin.

 _"So...it's not going in her eye?" Laura asked, "Because that hurts, and I don't want you to hurt her."_

 _Hank stopped what he was doing. He put his needle down, and then moved closer to Laura. She didn't seem afraid, merely put a finger on her eyelid and the area underneath it, widening it. He could just make out the tiny marks that indicated a needle had been slipped there._

 _Several times._

 _"Were...was something wrong with your eyes?" he asked._

 _He dreaded the answer._

 _"No," Laura said, "I could always see fine. But they said they wanted to see if I could push myself."_

 _She let go of her eyelid._

 _"He was a doctor," Laura said._

The syringe shattered in his hand before he could push down. Hank threw it on the floor, feeling disgusted, sick to his stomach. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, turning once, before snatching up the nearest syringe.

He jabbed it in his arm, pushing down before he could think. It hurt more, because he was doing it improperly, but he needed to get this over with. As soon as the last bead of liquid disappeared he tossed the syringe onto the ground, watching it shatter too.

Hank crouched down on the floor, grabbing his hair again, the tears and the shame well up. He tore off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, feeling small and wrong. The water smudged his face, sunk beneath his fingernails, not washing anything away, only adding a shimmering layer.

He stopped, letting go of his glasses and looking, instead, down at his arm. Several different dots speckled the veins there from his daily injections. It made him look like a drug addict. Maybe that was what he was, but he just didn't drink like Charles did.

He sniffed, trying to clear his nose, throat, his appearance. Breathing in as much as he could, Hank put his glasses on and stood up. He needed to get some water, needed to make sure he didn't get too dehydrated. He needed to rest, and he couldn't do that feeling dried out.

His watch started beeping, as did his computer. Blearily, Hank stumbled over and pulled up the proximity alarm. It was set to go off whenever anyone entered any one of the three back roads that could lead to Westchester. Anything within 20 miles brought up an alert, although most of them turned off immediately since the person changed course.

However, that's not what this person was doing. Hank sat down, trying to get whatever water was stuck in his eyelids and glasses off. He typed in a few keywords, activated the cameras he'd managed to hide at that distance. It had taken him two days, but he was not going to get knocked out and dragged off to Canada again.

When he enhanced the image, he let out a sigh and reached for the phone. This was, quite simply, the last thing they needed. Hank waited, and wasn't particularly surprised when it was Moira who picked up instead of Charles.

"Erik's going to be here in twenty minutes," he said, "And he's bringing Logan."

* * *

Charles felt like he was going slightly insane. While he'd expected Erik soon, he hadn't expected him to be carting Logan with him. In any other circumstance, Charles would be delighted to meet him again and, maybe, just maybe, search for a way to repay him for everything he'd done for him. It was to him he owed his current happiness: he had no doubt of that.

He would have even been delighted to see him in another day, another twelve hours. But no. He was coming now, and he had no idea how Emma would react to that. She was protective of her niece, and Charles couldn't imagine a way Logan's visit played out that didn't end without him knowing about Laura. Everyone deserved to know about their children. What they decided to do after that was their own business, and he still needed to talk to Raven on that issue.

However, after the past few hours, he just wanted to try and formulate a plan, and then sleep for the next day. Instead, he wolfed down what was left of his coffee, it was cold, and hurried to put on a jacket over his clothes. Moira was going through a similar ritual, splashing her face with water and running a comb through her hair. They needed to be awake for what was coming next.

 _Raven?_ he thought.

 _What?_

The tone was snappish, and he winced.

 _Erik's going to be here with Logan in the next ten or fifteen minutes,_ said Charles, _And-_

 _I'll be there soon._

 _Raven, is something wrong-?_

 _I said I'll be there in a minute!_

He recoiled and, trying not to feel hurt at the sudden, snappish rejection, climbed into his wheelchair. Moira gripped the handlebars of his wheelchair, and Charles leaned back.

"Be ready love," he said, "I don't know how they...I don't know how they ran into each other."

"Don't they know each other from what happened in D.C.?" asked Moira.

Charles coughed. If Logan remembered that and, given what had happened in the conference room during their first time saving Raven, he probably didn't, that wouldn't have gone well for Erik.

Or for Logan. It was difficult to say who would've come out worse.

"It's not positive," he said, "So just...be wary. I need to let Emma know he's coming."

"Charles, you're not suggesting you break the news to him tonight?" she asked, aghast.

"No, no!" said Charles hastily, "I just think she should know. I'll let her set a time when she can talk to him, and then they can work things out with Laura. Or she might want me to break it to him, I don't know, but it's happening tomorrow morning at the earliest. It's when Emma might be ready, when Laura might be ready."

When I might be ready, he added silently.

"Okay," she said, "I'll get us down there. Hank said he'll meet us at the front door."

"Good," said Charles, "Most of the students are probably asleep, so we shouldn't worry too much about that."

"From what you told me, they already saw a former terrorist help rebuild the school," she said, "I think they know he's connected in some way."

"I know, I know," said Charles, "Just...not tonight."

She nodded, looking weary. He turned and reached for her hand gently, brushing her bare skin. She managed a smile, which he returned, before they went into the elevator and he put his other hand to his temple.

 _Emma?_

 _Yes?_

The response was sleepy, but also thoughtful. He sighed, wondering just what she had been pondering.

 _Logan's coming. He'll be here soon.  
_

For a minute, there was only silence, one he could tell was getting more and more belligerent.

 _Thank you for waiting all of two minutes before calling to tell him about Laura,_ she said sourly, _Because, right now, after everything she's been through tonight, she really needs a father who may or may not reject her. That sounds totally brilliant! I-!_

 _Erik brought him,_ Charles sighed, _I found out he was coming here all of ten minutes ago, but I thought you should have some advanced warning, because this was all I could give. Rest assured, the two of you will meet at a time and place of your choosing during his stay._

The feeling from Emma's end became less and less belligerent.

 _During his stay?_

 _I think that you two should meet,_ said Charles, _But I agree that right now is not the time._

A sigh from her connection.

 _Thank you, I suppose. I'm...I need to think...I need to go to bed._

 _Rest Emma,_ he said, _I'll take care of this._

She sighed again, and Charles felt her pull away. He rubbed his eyes once as the elevator doors opened, and Moira pushed him out. Hank was already there, true to his word, looking as exhausted as he felt. His face was flushed though, and Charles wondered what had caused it. Was it just the weight of the night pressing down on him?

A jeep pulled up, and Charles redirected his attention. It stopped some distance away, and Charles saw Erik kick open the door to the passenger's seat. So he hadn't been allowed to drive? That probably would've driven him mad.

Logan followed a moment later, looking at the place with a look of distaste. Any glimmer of hope that Charles was getting the mature, stubborn, planning man who had forced his way into the school years ago disappeared.

 _Hank, I don't believe he remembers us,_ Charles said.

 _Great,_ sighed Hank.

More or less, it did sum up his own feelings. However, he manged to smile as Erik walked up.

"It's good to see you old friend," he said.

"Good to see you too," said Erik.

He clapped a hand on one of his shoulders, and Charles saw the way his eyes flicked over to Moira. Something strange was reflected there that Charles knew he had to prod.

 _What is it?_ he asked.

 _How...how far along is she?_

Charles smiled and held her hand a little tighter.

 _Coming up on three months_ , he replied.

Erik nodded briefly, and held out his hand. Moira inclined her head and took it. Erik let it go, and his eyes fell on Hank.

"Hank," said Erik, "Wasn't sure I'd have quite such a big welcoming party, given the hour."

"I've been following your movements for the past 20 miles," said Hank, "You set off about five proximity alarms on your way here."

Erik smiled, amused.

"You've got quite the fortress here now," he said.

"I prefer to think of it as being prepared," said Charles, "And we have good reason to be."

"Meaning?"

His eyes slid over to Logan briefly, and the man stared belligerently, challengingly back. This was going to be tricky.

"Meaning we need to talk, all of us," said Charles, "And, as much as I think we all need some sleep, we need to do it now."


	17. Chapter 17

By the time they got to the elevator, Charles could feel the coffee wearing off. He cursed not having a machine in his office, but he'd always been more of a tea person. However, he was going to put money in the budget for a coffee machine in case this ever happened again.

"Whose blood?"

Charles looked over his shoulder. Logan was standing next to Hank. The man's nostrils were flaring, and his eyes were narrowed. Charles could just make out that they were fixed to a point on Hank's sleeve where a smear of blood lay.

Laura's blood.

"I'm the school's doctor," Hank said, his voice tired, but wary, "One of the students had an accident: I had to stitch them up."

Logan's nostrils flared again, and Charles wondered what it was he was smelling. Was there something of the blood that reminded him of his own? It was a distinct possibility, and one they needed to put off for now.

"In any case," said Charles, "We've got a lot to talk about Erik."

"Starting with the fact that you have a team of psychotic mutants that are likely going to show up at any second on your doorstep," Erik said.

Charles rubbed his forehead as the elevator doors opened.

"Yes, we know."

"We do?" asked Hank.

"We found out about five minutes before you contacted us Hank," said Moira.

She went to push Charles's chair, but he grabbed the wheels himself and propelled himself forward. She, like him, was dead on his feet. A vague thought came that, perhaps, she shouldn't push herself, strain the child.

It was probably a silly way of thinking, but at this hour, it was all he could do to keep the wheels moving straight. He hadn't slept properly since the night of the mission to invade Essex's facility. Too much had happened.

"And we didn't know that they were sending the team after us specifically," said Moira, "Only that they were very much aware of where we're located."

"Well they, quite literally, haven't been within twenty miles of us," Hank said, "I can tell you that."

"How about twenty-one miles?" asked Erik.

Hank shot him a glare, but Erik gave the same half-smile half-smirk he always had when dealing with others ire.

"I'm not joking you know," said Erik, "Are you sure they haven't been testing the parameters?"

"They would've had to be circling for a really long time," said Hank, "I just widened the parameters the other day."

"And why would you do that?" asked Erik.

Although his odd half-smile was still glued on his face, possibly widening slightly, Charles could see the flicker of irritation in his brow. Hank just crossed his arms and, for the first time, Charles realized the two were around the same height.

"You tell me," Hank said.

A door opened at the end of the hall and Raven walked in, her hands in her pockets. She didn't look quite as tired as the rest of them, but there was also something strange in her eyes. She gave a small nod to Erik, and tilted her head at Charles.

"So," she said, "When were you thinking about telling us about the upcoming invasion?"

How long had she been listening in? However, the tone lacked the usual venom with which she might have normally spoken, and it seemed more reflexive than anything.

"As soon as we could all get together which was, funny enough, two minutes ago, as well as us finding out," said Moira, "Now let's get in before you all wake the entire school."

She didn't wait, simply pushed the door to his office open.

"Nice friends ya got here," grunted Logan.

Erik rolled his eyes as they walked inside the office. Charles thought about going to his desk, mostly because it was where he usually went, and decided against it at the last minute. Things were tense enough in the room without him trying to pull a power play.

"Now, everyone, Moira and I have been reviewing the files we took from Essex's facility," he said, "Obviously the control collars are the ones that caught our eye."

"He got those things working?" Logan said, dropping into the first chair he saw.

"We're not exactly sure on that," said Hank, "I'd say he moved more toward the beta phase, in testing. He has something that I believe can sway how someone behaves, but I'm not sure where it comes from."

Logan scratched his chin, looking thoughtful.

"No clue kid," he said, "Lotta Essex's finer science projects require higher clearance than mine."

"And what were you doing working for him exactly?" asked Raven.

"Raven," Charles said gently.

"No, I want to know this," she said, "That sick asshole your boss worked with kidnapped children and pregnant woman and experimented on them. I wanna know why you were in on that!"

Logan looked as though she'd slapped him, and Charles was reminded of the expression he'd seen when they'd met for the first time. It wasn't disappointment so much as the feeling that someone had suddenly cut into him.

And he saw another expression: guilt.

"Didn't know about the second," he said, "Didn't...didn't find out about the first until a year ago."

"A year?" she snapped.

She made a jerking motion with her hand. When she did, he saw how close she'd moved to Moira as she spoke.

"Yeah, I spent a couple months without my goddamn mind," Logan snarled, "So yeah, I knew about it for about two months before I got shoved in a damn tank and had metal pumped inta my bones!"

Raven gritted her teeth, and Charles swallowed.

"Everyone, I understand this is a delicate issue," said Charles, "But, despite the many, many differences Erik and I have had over our lives, I think he wouldn't...I don't believe he would bring a man who participated in Moira's kidnapping here."

Erik's gaze fell on him, and there was a glimmer of a sigh in his eyes. He tilted his head, and Charles gently prodded his mind.

 _You were going to say that I wouldn't bring anyone dangerous to the school, weren't you?_ asked Erik.

 _Well...I don't believe you would do it again,_ Charles said.

Erik shook his head. He rubbed his hand, where his wedding ring was.

 _It's...more trust than I deserve, either way._

The thought, though seemingly grudgingly admitted, was honest. With everything in him, Charles wished he could discuss the issue more. But life wasn't going to permit that it appeared.

"Do you know for a fact that it's the team that's coming?" asked Moira.

"Plus one," Erik said, looking away from Charles, "It appears that one member was missing during your fight, during my fight even. Goes by the name of Victor Creed I believe?"

The name sent Charles's mind racing to Emma, a girl who most likely wanted vengeance. How could he keep this from her? How could he tell her? Erik made a small gesture toward Logan, and Charles turned his attention to him, and how his fingernails were scratching into the wooden armrest.

"My brother," Logan admitted.

The word 'brother' was spit out as though a tooth had gone rotten and he'd chewed it out himself. Hank leaned forward, and Logan's nostrils flared once again, his hand tightening on the armrest.

Again, Charles thought of Emma. How would she react when she discovered her niece shared blood with her sister's killer through her father? Her ire, he knew, wouldn't be directed toward Laura. No, she loved her too much.

He did have a pretty good idea who it would be directed toward though.

"I take it you don't see eye to eye," said Hank.

"No," Logan said.

"They were, more or less, trying to kill each other when I ran into them," Erik offered, "I don't think we're going to need to worry about that."

"And why is that?" asked Raven.

Logan narrowed his eyes, but didn't speak. Moira tapped his hand with her finger. It was a light brush, but he could take a cue.

 _Love?_

 _Logan went rogue soon after Kayla_ , she said, _Creed was sent on a mission, then Kayla was killed. Logan was put into experimentation. You don't think...?_

He looked at the man in front of him. He'd seen enough of Kayla in Emma's memories to see a young woman filled with the urge to live, and to live well. It wasn't the kind of good living most people would imagine, but she had seen joy in braiding Emma's hair, in a good grade, in helping out and putting in extra hours at the school or church.

She'd also been intelligent. Her mother had given her the same kind of vicious cleverness she'd given Emma, but years of living her own life and making her own way had softened it. She'd seen the best in people, what they could become, while maintaining a slightly cynical edge.

Kayla had wanted things, things most people couldn't give her. She'd reached for joy in all of Emma's memories, memories which were likely whitewashed. Yet, it was difficult to make everything perfect. If Charles had met her, he would've wanted to hire her.

A bright flame, forced into surroundings where she didn't belong. Her record showed she'd excelled, but he wondered if that flame had become smaller and smaller, smothered. Had Logan seen that happening?

Yes, they had known each other. Again, their record showed that. But what had she been during that acquaintance? A comrade, a friend, perhaps more? Charles could see the last one all too easily.

And the Logan he'd met in the future had had so much pain in his eyes.

 _Perhaps,_ he said finally, _It's too early to know for certain though._

 _I suppose so._

"In any case," Charles said, "Now that we're up to speed, we'll need to have a talk with the rest of the X-men, as well as Emma, on how best to proceed. Your knowledge of the team will be valuable Logan-"

"Emma?" Logan said.

The word was ponderous, confused.

"Yes," said Charles, "She was rescued from Muir Island, as well as another captive, and Moira."

"Scotland?" asked Logan.

"Yes," Charles said, "She's at the school now."

"Sharp as her mother?" asked Erik.

The question was, perhaps, redundant. He'd already told Erik of Emma's parentage, and a few of her odd habits. Even from the beginning, he knew they would have to involve her. Her knowledge of Essex and his ways made her their ace in the hole.

Bringing her onto the field had been out of the question though, even before a potential target of her anger would be on the field. She was untrained and brash, as likely to hurt herself and the team as she was her enemies.

"Maybe sharper," Raven said, "There's about fifteen extra walls there, and they can come up at any time."

"But before that, we all need some rest," said Charles, "Just for a few hours at least. The third floor is mostly storage, but I've had three emergency guest rooms put together. Some may be more livable, and please don't be surprised if you find a few paint cans."

Erik nodded, but, next to him Logan was glaring at the table. Charles tilted his head, and saw that Logan's fingernails had driven deep grooves into the chair's arm rest. The varnish was clean off, and anyone touching it would likely receive splinters.

And when he looked up, it was the look of a man who had watched the fires of Hell burn, and all for nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

There was a pause, a moment where no one really spoke. Finally, Kevin decided it was time he say something.

"So, those aren't supposed to be yellow, right?" he asked.

"Amanda's usually aren't," Megan said, examining the cooling cookies, "They're more…beige, you know?"

"I think it is because Sam insisted we add more butter," said Xi'an.

"It needed more butter," Sam said, "Shugah too."

"Yeah, that's all very well and good," said Megan, looking uncertainly at the cookies, "But they're super thin. I don't think Emma's gonna let Laura eat these."

"Why not?" asked Kevin.

Megan tentatively moved the cooking sheet off the stove.

"She doesn't let her eat a lot of sweet things," she said.

"My aunt lets me eat lotsa sweet things," Sam said.

Kevin swallowed, wondering if the reason Emma did that was because Laura couldn't handle a lot of sweet things. He'd read somewhere that people who didn't grow up with a lot of food or who had been malnutritioned couldn't handle a ton of food all at once, or too sweet things.

But this was what you did when people were injured or weren't feeling well, wasn't it? You made them sweets or a dish and then took it to them to show you cared. Levine, though he'd been terrible at it, had cooked for a ton of nights when his mom was recovering. Hank and Charles had brought her breakfast when they got her back from Scotland. He'd even been allowed to help.

This was what you did: he was sure of it. It was why he'd managed to wrangle so many of his friends together on a Saturday to make cookies. Megan had insisted on using Amanda's recipe, but not allowing Amanda to help. They'd all pitched in and this had been the result.

He picked up one of the cookies. The yellow color was weird, but he took a bite out of it. It was rather sweet, sweeter than even he liked his cookies. A little crunchy too, but chewy in other places.

"It's okay," he said, finishing it, "Sam, you've got flour on your face."

"Yeah?"

"Brush it off," he said, "We need to ask Ch-my dad where Laura is."

He caught himself at the last moment, and immediately felt three pairs of eyes staring at him. Kevin felt a little cold, not wanting to have to explain, but he wasn't going to be shy about this. The word didn't come easily any more, but he'd wanted to be able to use it.

Now he could, and it would be toward someone who would never kick him, never make him hate himself. He'd have the same father as his sibling when they were born and, in a few years, maybe they could forget Kevin had ever had another father.

So he gave them a defiant look, and Sam shrugged. Kevin looked at one of the cupboards, and the door flew open. It hit the cupboard next to it a little hard, but nothing broke. Breathing in, he levitated one of the plates down from the cupboard and into his hands.

The rest closed in, placing cookies on the plate. There were about twelve of them, and he figured they could each have one with Laura, talk about whatever it was she felt like talking about. He wasn't sure what that might be, but it would be something.

Together, they traveled up the stairs, with Sam sneaking a cookie on the way.

"I don't see what ya on about," he said, "These taste fine."

"You are such a boy," Megan said.

"And you're such a girl," said Sam.

"What does that mean?" asked Xi'an.

Megan crossed her arms.

"Means he's stupid," she said.

"No, I understood that," said Xi'an, "I just did not understand why being a girl is an insult. We are amazing."

"Guys!" Kevin said.

They were almost at his father's office. He thought he heard voices, and if he could hear muted voices inside the room, then maybe they could hear this. It was a silly conversation, and one he didn't want his father to think he was a part of.

"I'll ask him, okay?" said Kevin.

"Why can't we just go ta Laura's room?" asked Sam.

"She wasn't there last night," Megan replied.

"She might still be in Hank's office, and not in her room, and we might not even be allowed to see her," said Kevin, "She may need, I dunno, rest or something."

Still holding the plate of cookies, Kevin knocked quickly. The voices stopped abruptly, and Kevin figured that meant he could come in. He opened the door, balancing the plate. He had to use his gift to shut the door easily: the coordination was too much otherwise.

He looked up, and saw the surprise on his father's face. There was another man there too though, and one Kevin recognized from TV and newspapers. He felt himself tense instinctively, even though his mother had explained what he was doing there.

"Kevin," said Charles, "You probably should have waited after knocking."

"Sorry," Kevin said, looking away from his father's terrorist friend, "I just...I thought...I though I should ask where Laura is, and if we can see her."

Truthfully, he probably should have just asked his father using his gift. However, he hadn't seen him this morning. His mother had been sleeping, and he'd seen her when she came into the kitchen, but he hadn't seen his father.

"We made cookies," he said, proffering the plate.

Erik looked at them, one of his eyebrows raising.

"Rather yellow, aren't they?" he said.

"Sam added extra butter," said Kevin, "They taste fine though."

Erik smiled, clearly amused, and Kevin bristled. His father wheeled out from behind his desk and took a look.

"They are a little on the yellow side," he said, "And rather shiny. Too much sugar."

"That was Sam," Kevin repeated, "But, I wasn't lying. They do taste fine."

"I'm sure you wouldn't try to give Laura something that didn't," said his father said.

"Right," said Kevin, "We want her to get better, not worse."

His dad smiled, and Kevin saw a half-smirk on Erik's face. Good smirk, bad smirk? He couldn't tell.

"So," Erik said, leaning against the wall, "Who's this?"

His dad turned to him, and Kevin was surprised to see a glimmer of pure fear there. What had he done?

 _Kevin...how do you...how do you want me to introduce you?_ he asked.

 _What do you mean?_

 _I mean...as...as...I just wanted to see if, maybe, you would...how  
_

Kevin suddenly understood, and gripped the plate tighter. Why was this a question? He thought back to the previous night, of how his dad had asked him if he wanted to give him that title. He'd said yes, hadn't he?

Then again, it had been late at night. He'd been exhausted, emotionally and physically. Had he fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing? His heart began to beat faster, and he swallowed, trying to stop from dropping the plate.

 _I can still call you dad, can't I?_

The thought came out suddenly, unbidden. Kevin cursed the lack of a filter on his gift for the millionth time. Why couldn't he have control, like his dad did?

 _Kevin, I'm sorry,_ his dad said, _I didn't...of course you can. I didn't mean to make you doubt that. It's just...I've never had a son before._

Kevin looked up at him, the plate suddenly feeling light in his hands.

 _I've never had a dad,_ he said, _Not really._

 _Then let's figure this out together._

"Charles?"

His father cleared his throat and put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin felt himself stand up a little straighter.

"Erik I'd like you to meet Kevin, my son," he said.

Erik's eyebrows shot up even further, but Kevin squared his shoulders. This was how his father was going to introduce him from now on. No one would ever see the two of them together and doubt who they were.

And when his mother was with them, no one would doubt they were anything other than a family.

"Nice to meet you," Erik said.

Kevin nodded and looked at his father.

"So, can we give her these?" he asked, trying to pretend that what had happened wasn't surprising, wasn't world-changing, "Laura's in her room, right?"

"Yes, she was moved there a few hours ago," his father said, "Please listen to Emma if she tells you she can't have the cookies though. She's the one in charge of taking care of her."

"Sure thing," Kevin said, "See you later."

He grinned and hurried out the door, no longer even thinking about the cookies' color. It didn't really matter anymore.

Once again, Kevin was someone's son. And this time, he would never be anyone else's.

* * *

"That boy was not your son," said Erik.

Charles pivoted his wheelchair so he could look at his old friend. There was an unusual amount of firmness in his voice, and Charles could see the way Erik's fingers were curled around his forearm.

Irritation rose so quickly it was surprising.

"I just said he was," he said.

"No, I'm saying that, unless there is definitely something you're not telling me, he wasn't here when I was here last," said Erik, "He's not your son."

"His biological father, if that's what you mean, was Moira's first husband," said Charles tersely.

"How many has she had?" asked Erik.

"One," Charles snapped.

His friend frowned, but Charles continued.

"His father, for good reason, has not been in the picture for a long time. Last night, Kevin called me 'dad' on a much more conscious level than he's ever done before," said Charles, "I wasn't going to turn him away."

"Not when you wanted it too?" asked Erik.

His voice was a little less firm, and Charles inclined his head. Again, he noticed Erik was rubbing his wedding ring. A sinking, horrible feeling filled him. How old had Nina been when he lost her? Kevin's age?

He shoved the feeling aside. Yes, it wasn't fair what had happened to his friend. But, at the same time, that wouldn't decrease his happiness at what he had. It would just have to make him more thankful.

"Yes," said Charles, "Even if he wasn't Moira's son, he's an amazing child. He has...Erik, he's truly one of the bravest, strongest, smartest students to ever cross this threshold."

"And he's telepathic, like you?" asked Erik.

"You caught that, did you?" Charles asked.

"You two stared at each other for a good minute before you answered me," he said, "It was actually pretty obvious."

"Alright, I'll give you that," said Charles, "He's telekinetic too, and perhaps more. He just...his mother did an amazing job."

His friend looked at him for a long moment.

"This is what you always wanted with Moira, isn't it?" he asked.

Erik's tone wasn't accusatory, just curious.

"You...I always wondered," his friend said, "I saw the way you looked at her. You didn't want to just be with her. You wanted a family with her."

"I wanted a future with her," said Charles, "And I did want a family. Even as young as I was, I knew what we had could be more."

"And now she's here, pregnant, ready to give you that family," said Erik.

Charles laughed.

"Erik, I thought you'd been listening," he said, "She already has."

Erik ran a hand over his face, his smile barely hidden.

"Then congratulations on becoming a father Charles," he said, "It's not as easy as you might think. And..."

The smile disappeared, and his friend's hand returned to his wedding ring.

"Take care of them," Erik said, "It sounds easy, but..."

Charles nodded, his friend's pain a living, breathing thing he could feel. His own feelings were a living thing too though, and he hoped that both Kevin and Moira were aware of them.

"With everything," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

Logan stared at the ceiling. He hadn't slept that night, but he wasn't concerned. Rest had never been his strong point, and he'd learned to function on only an hour or two at most. More was, of course, preferable.

But, at the moment, what he was feeling wasn't something that allowed for a lot of rest. Emma was alive. She'd been in a facility in Scotland. He cracked his knuckles almost absently, wondering how much strength it would take to break the adamantium out of his bones and shove it through Stryker's eyes.

It had been for nothing. Everything Kayla had done, everything she had risked in her final days. Scotland. Had Emma always been there, or had she been moved at the last minute?

It was a strange thing to be bitter over. It wasn't as though he would wish Kayla's little sister dead, but had they ever actually intended to kill her? She wouldn't have been intended for the field, Stryker wasn't patient enough to wait three years, but those had been years using her as a guarantee of Kayla's good behavior.

When he'd met her for the first time, Kayla already been run through a gauntlet of training and experimentation. How extensive that experimentation was, she'd never said. After they'd known each other for more than a year, he'd seen scars on her arms and back from failed attempts to kickstart an artificial healing factor they'd installed. It hadn't worked, and he'd watched a medic bind up broken bones, seen Kayla stitch up some of her own wounds.

But they didn't see that pain in her eyes. What they saw most often was the disdain, the wall that she'd built with the express purpose of keeping them out. She didn't want them, and rejected what they did, what they were meant to do.

They had been supposed to continue training her though, him, Zero and Vic. Each had operative had taken two weeks, and he'd come immediately, she'd fought like she was fighting for her life. It had irritated him, but she hadn't known any of them really, and patience wasn't his strong suit.

But one day, after he'd wrestled her to the mat, one of his arms wrapped around her neck in a sleeper hold, she'd started clawing at him. It had only been meant as a demonstration really, but as soon as the oxygen was cut off, she fought like he was trying to kill her. He'd released her immediately, and she turned.

"Wasn't tryin ta hurt ya," he'd snapped.

She'd given him a long look, one of her hands going to her throat.

"I guess you're not," she said.

They had been some of the first words that he'd heard her speak that hadn't been the response to a command. Logan had never been able to understand why she was with them, nor why Stryker insisted she be put on the team. She was more than competent, true enough, but there was something distant about her. She wasn't in it for the agency, like Zero was, for what it was supposed to be, like Chris and John were, and definitely not for the bloodlust, like he was starting to realize Vic was.

But he'd ignored that thought, because even then he'd known it was dangerous. And yet, during a mission where it had just been them, there'd been a day when they had walked past a school. It was the end of the day, and a crowd of students burst out, chattering and laughing.

One of them hadn't been looking where they were going and ran into him. She'd fallen down and skinned their knee. Tears had been gathering in her eyes, but when she looked up at him, the girl shrank away. He often had that effect on children.

Kayla, however, had knelt down immediately and smiled. It was the first time he'd seen her do that, and it was beautiful.

"Hey," she'd said, "You hurt?"

The little girl nodded, and Kayla casually ripped off the cuff of her shirt. She wrapped it around the little girl's knee, smiling all the while.

"There you go," Kayla said, her voice bright, "Much better. Just tell your mom to wash it off, and it'll heal in no time. But you should pay more attention to where you're running you know."

The girl nodded, managing a tentative smile.

"You should probably apologize too," said Kayla.

The girl shrank again.

"He's scary," she said.

Logan snorted. Again, he'd never really gotten on with children. However, Kayla's laugh drowned it out.

"Don't worry," said Kayla, "He'd never hurt you."

The girl looked at her, and then nodded tentatively. She got up and ducked her head.

"Sorry mister," the girl said, "And thank you miss."

Without another word, she scurried off. Logan had looked at Kayla when she got up, giving her a quizzical look. she'd shrugged.

"You wouldn't though," said Kayla.

Her voice was light, and she straightened her torn cuff.

"What're ya gonna do about that?" he'd asked.

She shrugged again, and then a sly smile crossed her lips. Something lit up in her eyes, something he had never seen. It was like watching a stove from his childhood. So much from his past was missing, the most recent memories were the clearest, but this remained.

It would always start with a match thrown into dry, rotting wood. For a minute, there would be nothing, and then warmth and light would flood the room.

That had been her eyes.

"I'll put it on my expense report," she replied.

And he'd been lost. He'd tried to deny it later, to pretend that he didn't know what was happening. He knew exactly what he was doing though, how he was staying close, just in case that spark would come again. And when it did, he fell just a little further.

She was wary, and he understood that. But the more missions they did together, the more they talked, the easier it became to draw that fire forth. It was stifled every time they returned to the team, but every single time it was just them, it was different.

When he was around her, everything became heightened. Even when he was showing her how to defend herself, physically pushing her away, he wanted to pull her closer. He wanted to turn every touch into a caress, and he wanted her panting breaths on his skin.

Yet, he'd known that what he wanted was insanity. How was any of that supposed to work? He was gleaning bits and pieces from her past, a strong mother who had died, a loving father who had followed. He'd even pulled bits and pieces out about a beloved sister, probably dead too, and yet he didn't understand how someone like her had ended up on a team with someone like him.

But he'd forgotten all of that the first night she'd taken him into her arms. It had been another mission with just the two of them, and the way she had looked at him, that spark once again igniting all through her eyes, it consumed him.

When she'd said she loved him, yes, that was a memory he kept close. And the other solo missions, he cherished those too, the only times he could really be alone with her. Coming back to the team was difficult. They hadn't told the team, but he thought Vic at least suspected what was going on. This was something that, somehow, Logan knew he couldn't share, didn't want to share, with anyone else. But there were so few things you could hide from a feral.

It wasn't going to last. It had hit home during one mission, and he'd realized just what this life was doing to her. He'd been working on the guards when he'd heard the screams from inside. Vic had been working on assassinating the general inside the compound, and Kayla had been along for, as Stryker had put it "experience."

He hadn't approved, not with the way Vic's eyes would narrow and his nostrils flare every time he saw Kayla. Logan had pushed in, only to find Kayla on the floor, blood smeared on her face and a claw mark in her shoulder.

But she hadn't been the one who screamed. When he'd followed her gaze, he'd seen the general's family, torn up, and Vic stalked forward. He'd picked Kayla up, slammed her into the wall, snarling.

"Vic, what the hell!" Logan yelled.

He'd managed to shove him away, and the look of utter contempt in betrayal in his brother's eyes told him he knew. Kayla had been taking choking breaths, but she'd shoved him away when he tried to help her up.

She didn't speak to him for another two days.

When she came back, she tried to explain her feelings, and he'd wondered yet again why she was with them. Logan had spent the entire night, his arms around her, trying to figure out what to do, if there was even a remedy.

Five months later, he'd noticed she was a little jumpier than usual, a little more nervous. He'd tried to wheedle out of her what was wrong, but she'd put him off again and again. Finally, after they'd completed their mission, she'd asked him if he would ever consider leaving with her.

The question hadn't really surprised him, but it had frightened him. Leaving would mean leaving Vic: he had no illusions about that. While his brother seemed more animal than man these days, up and leaving him after more than a century of looking out for each other was not to be taken lightly.

She'd seen his hesitation and dropped the question immediately, but held him all that night. The next day, he'd woken around noon to find his tastebuds screaming in pain and tongue feeling thick. She'd drugged him, leaving him sluggish for hours.

And he'd found out why. His advanced security clearance was gone, as was his direct line to headquarters. But she was gone too, along with his bike and any trace she'd ever been there.

Logan had dragged himself back to somewhere he could get a message out. He'd accepted Vic's smirk with a slow, burning resentment, his heart bleeding out inside of him. Hearing Stryker tell them she had compromised the team, that she was going to a secure facility in Canada to sabotage them, that she'd been working for the Soviets, had slipped in the final knife.

But, when he went there, he found something different. He still wasn't sure why Stryker had been determined to do things in the way he did, to taunt her. Now that he learned Emma was alive, it made even less sense.

He'd followed her at a distance when he realized she'd broken in, trying to decide what to say, how to let her know what she had done, had ruined. Could he even bring himself to hurt her? But when he'd seen her lured to a room where she was met with Stryker's voice, a video feed of her sister being gassed, what they'd thought was her dying, it was too much.

Logan had seen her scream, pound her fists on the glass. Then he'd seen her crumple onto the floor, limp. When he'd walked in with the guards, she'd just barely raised her head. He'd seen nothing in her eyes, not even the dry kindling that could once be ignited into that inferno.

Again, he had been lost, and his fury at Stryker and desire to see that spark again blocked everything else out. He whisked her away from the room, from the facility, killing anything that got in his way. She'd looked at him with such dead eyes, and it infuriated him, because it all made sense, why she was there, why she'd done what she had. Her sister had looked young, and she'd been the hostage.

After their parents died, he knew Kayla had raised her, protected her. She had loved her sister fiercely, but not destructively. She had given everything, and then something had happened, and Kayla had been asked to give more if she wanted to keep her sister alive.

Kayla had sacrificed as much of her soul as she could and, when she saw an opportunity to rescue Emma, she'd taken it. One scrap of information had sent her to Canada, only to fail. Everything she'd done had, in that moment, been for nothing.

She didn't speak to him for three days. But this silence was more like death. It was terrifying, and he'd wondered if there was anything left of her at all, if she had died when he sister did.

They'd been at what he'd thought was a safe house for two hours before he lost it, screaming and shouting for her to just wake up. He remembered the feel of her shoulders beneath her arms as he gripped them, shook her, begged that, if nothing else, couldn't she please live for him?

A small spark had ignited and, suddenly, he'd felt her fingers, cool on his cheeks.

"You...you still...after everything...?"

"Always," he said, "It was...it was real for me. All of it."

Her hands had gripped his face, her forehead touched his.

"It was real for me too," she whispered, "All of it."

"You still have me," he'd sworn, turning his grasp into an embrace.

And he'd thought she would, thought they would have each other in the upcoming, hard years. The way she'd pulled at him, words whispering a legend to him about love and yearning, but loving all the same

 _"And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But... he can never touch her again."_

He'd kissed her then, let her know he was staying with her. But when he'd woken up he'd found the way she'd been clawed open outside, her mouth gagged so she couldn't scream and wake him. He'd watched the light fading from her eyes, fought his brother, known he'd been too late, and felt that same, crumpling feeling.

After that, it had been water tanks and pain and so much anger. When he'd escaped, the physical pain had stopped, but the anger stayed. Memories came back in patches. He'd remembered the dying look in her eyes, the way she had only come back to life a few hours earlier.

And he'd wanted to make them pay for what they had done to him, done to her. He'd gone looking for them, for his brother, for Stryker and Essex and every last man on their payroll. He figured he might even come back for Chris one of these days.

But learning Emma was still alive? And she hadn't even been in Canada? All of that pain that could've been avoided, that spark that would have never left her eyes. They would've been headed to Scotland instead of staying in Canada. Vic would have never found them, and they would've been able to do it, together.

Instead, Kayla was gone and her sister lived. How could he even begin to explain to some goddamn kid what had happened? And then there was him. He was going to live with the memory of her light being extinguished forever.

The alarm clock went off and he smashed it. Time to talk to the nerds. Logan got up, his hands in his fists as he moved toward Charles's office for their meeting, to see the sister Kayla had given everything for, but never held again.

 _"It means the Wolverine."_

Yes, the Wolverine. And if he was smart in the story, he would've found the goddamn Trickster and ripped off his head. He wouldn't make the same mistake. When he did find Stryker, Essex, Vic, he hoped he had time to let them feel what he had before he extinguished whatever pitiful light was in their eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

Applying eyeliner was one of the most difficult things Emma had ever learned how to do. It required precision, and, more than once, she'd walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom with what looked like a black eye. Amanda had always been very gracious in helping her wipe it off.

This time though, she managed to do it well enough so that it wasn't necessary. She was, all things considered, surprised at how easily she'd been able to apply it. After all, her mind was addled from the night before, and she hadn't eaten that morning. She'd been too sick to do so.

Yet, somehow, her eyes were now lined very well and she looked down at her seven shades of eye shadow. It wasn't too difficult to pick. She opened up her compact with cream-white inside and looked at the powder. She applied it delicately, brushing over and hiding the veins on her eyelids, smoothing the skin tone.

After she finished, she realized she hadn't put on any mascara. If she did it poorly, like she so often did, she would smear the eye shadow, make a giant mess of everything. Damn it.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Amanda walked in. As usual, the girl looked like a fairy tale princess. Which Disney movie was it that she resembled again? Yes, _Sleeping Beauty._ That one.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, smiling ruefully. She looked like the opposite: wakeful ugly. The night before had left dark circles under her eyes, her skin flushed. It was like every single one of her cheekbones was a knife now.

"Are you okay Em?" asked Amanda.

She turned to her friend. Although she knew Amanda was still wary about what had happened with Jean, it had been forgotten in the wake of Laura's situation. Now, all Amanda wanted to do was be there for her friend, to help her.

And when Emma had spilled out the more complicated aspects of their situation, of Laura's parentage, Amanda had actually hugged her. She hadn't thought Emma was lying about Laura's unusual origins, or even told her she was wrong to feel nervous about Logan's presence. She'd just been there for her.

It was an odd sensation, knowing someone felt that way, and she'd actually gone into Amanda's mind to confirm it. It felt good to have someone who was more than an ally, but was a genuine friend, backing her.

And she would need both for what came ahead.

"Could you put on my mascara?" she asked, "I did something kind of stupid, you know."

She gestured to her eyes and Amanda nodded. She opened her eyes wide as Amanda brushed it with gentle, practiced strokes. Like Emma, Amanda had been a stranger to American concepts of make-up before coming to Westchester. Even now, her eye shadows were a brighter color, her blush a little more theatrical, hailing back to her performing days.

But it was softening, and her hands were always steady. Emma smiled when she was done, and then began applying foundation.

"How are the kids?" she asked.

"Pretty good," said Amanda, "Laura's obeying the one cookie rule, but I know that's taking a lot of effort. I don't know what she sees in those. They taste like pure sugar and chocolate."

"She's a child," said Emma, rubbing her foundation under her eyes to disguise the bags there, "And, to be honest, it was very kind, what they did."

"I'm not arguing that," Amanda said, "Although I'm alarmed at how little Megan understood my recipe. Or how much she let Sam manipulate it."

"We'll teach her a little bit of firmness before she's too much older," said Emma, "What were they doing when you left?"

She started looking for her powder, and Amanda handed it to her. Emma smiled in thanks, and then began brushing it over her face.

"Oh, they were still reading _Peter Pan_ ," Amanda said, "I saw it in a play once when we traveled to England. That was when Megan's mother joined us. She was still pregnant then, so I was pretty young."

A sly grin spread across her face.

"And from the way Laura keeps asking Kevin to read the next chapter, I think she thinks it's not just his smile that's pretty," she teased.

"She's six," said Emma, "Puppy love, at most."

Amanda tilted her head.

"Just because you fell madly in love with Kurt doesn't mean everyone's going to fall madly in love with someone else," said Emma pointedly, "Especially when they're six."

Her friend chuckled and picked up a second brush. She used it to get rid of some extra powder on Emma's cheek.

"Still, she'll have to flip through the book at least once more," said Amanda, "She has a book report due in a week."

"She'll finish it, and I'll help her if she needs it. I always liked that story," Emma said, "Even when I was young I quite liked the idea of children taking care of other children. Who said we need adults?"

Amanda raised an eyebrow and Emma laughed.

"Alright, who said we need too many adults?" asked Emma, "I think you're doing a fine job with Megan and, in a few years, I might sort of get the hang of Laura, if I have the chance."

One of Amanda's hands delicately rested on Emma's shoulder. Because of her lack of weight, Emma could feel the touch all the way to her bone.

"It will be fine," said Amanda, "I know you trust the Professor, and so do I. He won't just let some asshole take Laura away just because he's her father."

"I know," said Emma, "I know."

She rested her fingers on the counter.

"Laura wants a father," she said, "And I want to give her that. I want him to be good enough for her. He got his DNA mixed with my sister's, and he should see that as a damn privilege."

She picked up a tube of pink lipstick. It wasn't as bright as the other girls wore, but that wasn't what she was going for. Right now she just had to make it look like she was fully awake, alert, strong and ready to do battle.

As she smeared it over her lips, she caught another glimpse at Amanda, who looked thoughtful.

"He'd have to be," she said, "Laura's the type of girl anyone would want for a daughter."

She grinned.

"You make a terrifying sister-in-law though," said Amanda.

Emma grinned and put down the tube of lipstick and applied some blush. Some of it fell onto her shoulder, and she brushed some of her extra eye shadow and powder off the jacket she wore.

"I do, but let's be real here," she said, "I'm going to be Laura's aunt more than I'll be his anything. He probably didn't even know Kayla and, even if he did, eh."

The word wasn't the best way to sum up her feelings, but, quite honestly, the idea of her sister liking someone like Logan was laughable. It even made her smile a little as she finished with her hair put on her white headband. Kayla saw the good in everyone, but they wouldn't have had much in common. It was like comparing, well, a diamond with a rock.

With a final look to check her make up in the mirror, and her hair, she took off the jacket. Underneath it she was wearing an off-the-shoulder white top that the jacket had protected from any spilled make-up. White jeans hung at her hips, held in place by a light cream belt. Even her flats were white.

If she was going into battle today, she might as well be wearing her armor. Her mother had taught her that, in its own way, pure, clean white was intimidating. Used right, it proclaimed your purity, your strength and value, while making others feel soiled.

She turned and, with a wink that was much more buoyant than she felt, said:

"So, how intimidating do I look?"

"He doesn't stand a chance," Amanda said.

Emma laughed and pushed all of her make-up into her bag. She walked across the hall, her head held high. When she opened the door, she could just hear the end of the chapter as Kevin turned the page.

"Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremor ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

"You told me it had a happy ending!" Laura cried.

"It does, I swear!" Kevin said.

"I've read this like a million times," said Sam, "Or seen the movie, but he doesn't die."

She turned away, her arms crossed. Her bandaged hands made it difficult to pout, but Emma liked that she was making a wholehearted attempt. Emma chuckled to herself as she put her jacket and bag on the dresser.

"I don't wanna read this anymore," Laura said, "It's sad."

Kevin made an exasperated face and held up the book.

"Look there's loads more pages!" he said, "Loads! They won't just kill off the title character two thirds through the book! People don't die right now. They still haven't had the big battle yet, and all stories have to have a big battle, unless they're Jane Austen or Dickens."

"Who?" asked Xi'an.

"People who write," said Kevin, "But come on. We've still got loads more story, and there's all these little things that have to come together."

Laura looked uncertain, but Kevin gave her a reassuring smile. Finally, Laura nodded, but then saw Emma.

"You're so pretty!" she cried.

"Why thank you sweetie," said Emma.

She leaned down and kissed Laura on the forehead.

"I have to get going now, sadly, but take care, okay?" she said, "Don't stress yourself, and don't eat more than one cookie."

"Okay," said Laura.

"And the rest of you behave too," Emma said.

The children nodded, and Emma gave a final nod to Amanda. Her friend gave her a thumbs up, and Emma walked out, head held high, ready to face whoever this Logan was. If possible, she'd make him be an amazing father. If not, Laura would never even hear his name.

* * *

Essex looked down at his notes. Some of the dates were a little hazier than others. He'd never done something as ambitious as X23 before, and so more of this was guesswork than he would like to admit.

However, her claws should've come in by now. He'd known her skeletal structure was a little different, maybe with more claws, less. He'd wanted to avoid using another DNA donor, but Logan's genes had been so terribly unstable. It was Kayla's genes that would make a hash of things in the end, that much he knew.

If her claws were in, then one of his own personal adjustments would be kicking in too. He smiled to himself, and the phone rang. He picked it up, rolling his eyes and grabbing a cup of coffee.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked.

He listened for a minute, taking a sip. He hated mission reports but, as this one went on, he felt himself smiling.

"Well, that's excellent news," he said, "What was behind all that?"

His eyes widened, and he started laughing. Oh, this truly was a good day.

"You didn't terminate, did you?" he asked, "No? Well, that's good. Make sure it stays that way."

He put the cup down and began shifting around his plans. It was going to need a few last minute adjustments, but if he worked through the night, he would have it ready. That way, they might be able to salvage at least one asset.

"Get everything's secure, and then all of you need to stop by my office before we head to Westchester," he said, "I think this is just what we need."


	21. Chapter 21

Hank finished clicking through the slides, the different collar designs. Charles could tell that Logan's mind was elsewhere. Certainly, most of the information wasn't new to him, but his eyes darted away every few seconds to the door.

He was, Charles figured, waiting for Emma. The collars weren't new information to her either, Charles had given her a quick brief on it that morning, and she'd wanted a little more time with Laura. She'd join them in a few minutes, when her knowledge of Stryker's team and Essex's goals were useful.

And, while he'd told that to Logan, he knew the wait was killing him. Given his theories about Logan's relationship with Kayla, it made sense. He hoped it would make him more welcoming to the idea of Laura in the long run.

He wasn't the only impatient one though. Peter's foot was keeping up an incessant tap-tapping. Every now and then a snack appeared in his hand. It wouldn't have been unusual for him, except there wasn't any sort of blurring. He was staying firmly in the room, his hands digging out various snacks from his pockets.

Every now and then Charles caught him staring at Erik. Worse yet, he saw Raven and Storm staring at Peter staring at Erik. If so many other people hadn't been giving Erik odd looks, he had the feeling his friend would have already noticed that these looks were slightly more pointed than the others.

 _Moira, love, is there something I should know about Peter and Erik?_ he asked.

 _Nothing comes to mind,_ she replied, her eyes moving to the speedster, _I know Scott's a little...hostile, after what he found out, but Peter never really seemed to be frightened of him per say._

 _No, he's not frightened. But there's something else, something I can't put my finger on,_ said Charles.

 _We might just have to ask him,_ Moira said.

 _Have you ever tried to ask him something he doesn't want to answer?_ asked Charles drily, _It's like trying to pin down the wind while it's eating a twinkie. Or three._

She put her hand to her mouth, stifling a smile.

 _Charles, I think we're just going to have to trust that he'll tell us when he's ready,_ Moira said, _Or maybe he'll tell Kevin. I think he's better with kids than he is with adults._

 _It's why I think he'll make a fine teacher,_ Charles said.

 _You think everyone will make a fine teacher._

 _Yes, because most would,_ teased Charles.

She leaned to the side slightly, her hand brushing his.

 _One thing at a time,_ she said, _Right now, unfortunately, it's Stryker, Essex, and the people they're sending.  
_

Charles nodded, his mind turning back to Hank's presentation.

"-and then Charles told me that they apparently have our coordinates," said Hank, "We've already got a couple people here they were interested in for various reasons."

"Do we know why they were taken?" asked Storm, "Ms. MacTaggert is quite obvious, but what were Laura and Emma doing there?"

"Laura?" asked Logan.

Charles swallowed, trying to figure out a way to head this off before it went in its inevitable direction. Emma had been promised the opportunity to let him know, and he wasn't about to deprive her of that.

"One of the test subjects we found at Essex's facility in Scotland. Laura has, as we know, some unique properties with her mutation," Hank said smoothly, "Emma, we're not so sure about. They don't have similar gifts."

He looked at Hank, surprised and grateful.

 _That was quite...quite well said,_ Charles said.

Hank glanced at him, and, as soon as Logan looked away, gave him a small shrug.

 _Every now and then I think I can manage eloquence,_ he said, _Just pray her name doesn't come up again, because that's about all I got._

Hank cleared his throat.

"But, more to the point, they were precious," he said, "And I don't think Essex is going to take his latest defeat with anything approaching a good humor."

"What does he even want anyway?" asked Scott, "I get Stryker. I think he's an asshole-"

"Language," Charles said.

"-I think he's a jerk," said Scott, the motion of his head letting the room know he was rolling his eyes beneath his shades, "But I get what he's trying to do, create a subservient mutant army to 'protect' humanity. That sort of makes sense, in a sick kind of way. But what about Essex? What does he want?"

What did Essex want? The question seemed so simple, but the fact that Scott had even asked it showed just how complicated it was. Even when they had fought Erik, Shaw, Nur, the future itself, what the end game had been was obvious, or at least made sense.

Essex didn't, not in any sane world.

 _"After all this time, you still don't understand!" snarled Essex, placing his foot on the back of Charles's head and applying pressure, "You and Magneto! World conquest? Coexistance? Who cares? We're the future of this world! And that child inside MacTaggert? A child with an eighty percent chance of becoming a second generation mutant? Goddamnit!"_

Charles reached out and grasped Moira's hand.

"As far as I know, he doesn't want dominance," said Charles, "He doesn't want coexistance. He wants something for mutants, something important, but his agenda is...different than anyone else's."

"That's puttin it mildly Chuck," Logan snorted.

"I suppose that means there's no chance you can provide us with some insight on this then?" asked Erik.

Logan turned to him, a vein in his jaw twitching. From his side of the room, Kurt edged away slightly. Raven simply leaned forward, watching.

"Yeah," he said, "I got some insight for ya Mags. Essex likes ta cut up mutants and replace bits he thinks can work better, or are just more interestin. Pretty damn insightful, right?"

"Well, if you're going to be that helpful," said Erik, "I wonder why you bothered to come at all."

"Stop," Charles said.

Erik made a face, one which Charles returned with firmness. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

 _Can I come in now?_

And that was why. He glanced at Logan. The man was on edge, tense, angry. But more than that, Logan was downright threatening. If he was an animal, he'd have his hackles raised.

All in all, not the best look for a first impression.

 _One moment Emma,_ Charles said.

He cleared his throat.

"Everyone, I understand that this is an uneasy subject," he said, "But we need to pull together. The people that are coming to this school may only be interested in taking back what they see as 'theirs,' but they will not care about any collateral damage. You all know that and I, for one, am not prepared to let my students, my teachers, my family be put in danger because we couldn't pull together. Does everyone understand?"

A chorus of nods rippled around the room. Logan hesitated before giving a grunt. Good.

"What we do know about Essex is that he isn't someone with any moral compass," said Moira, "I watched them torture a teenage girl, not because she disobeyed, but simply because they couldn't be bothered to take pain out of the equation."

"Was that Emma?" asked Logan,

She turned to him, and Charles knew she was thinking about their conversation from the night before.

"Yes," she said.

Logan's gaze became clouded and, if at all possible, angrier.

"So, okay, maybe I missed something, because I got bored maybe, I don't know, but I'm not sure I understand why we're so worried," said Peter, "I mean, yeah, these guys are bad news, and they're total bastards-"

"Peter!" snapped Charles.

"-but we totally kicked their ass last time," Peter plowed on, "Now, me, I'm more than willing to kick it again and again-"

"Which one didja fight?" grunted Logan.

"The dude with the cowboy hat, and then I punched a lot of things that were moving," Peter replied, giving a half shrug, "I dunno, gets hard to keep track after awhile, ya know?"

He seemed to sit up a little straighter when he spoke, his words filled with a forced swagger and confidence. Was he trying to show off?

 _How about now?_

 _No, Emma._

"You're not gonna hafta worry about John," Logan said, "John's predictable."

"Bullshit," Peter said.

"Peter," sighed Charles,

"I'm twenty six," said Peter, "And it's not like it was too easy, I mean, I could take care of him and all, no problem really, but-"

"John's not the one I'm worried about goddamnit!" Logan snapped, "Not him, not Zero, not Chris! They may shoot or shock ya, but Vic'll shred ya ta bits if he gets hold of ya."

Peter unwrapped a twinkie and shoved it into his mouth, looking at Logan speculatively. While Charles had had to brief him on Logan's memory loss, he knew it was unlikely he was going to give him an easier time because of it.

"The key words here are 'if he gets hold of ya,'" he said confidently.

"The man has difficulty dying," said Erik, "I've seen this firsthand. But..."

He gave a half-shrug. Charles blinked at the gesture. Was it just his imagination, or had Peter's shoulders rolled in that same way?

"I've also seen Peter land several good blows on a mutant who's older than the pyramids," Erik said.

Peter grinned.

"Great. You beat up some geezer. But Vic's angry," said Logan, "Or vengeful, or whatever the hell he feels like calling it. He feels...betrayed. Like he's gotta destroy things to make a goddamn point."

"You seem to know a lot about him," Scott said warily.

Logan turned slowly to face Scott.

"I'm gonna say this one time one-eye, and I'm not repeatin it," he said, "And that goes for the rest of ya, and whatever the hell you hafta say about it. I know him because he's my brother, got it?"

"Oh, I got it."

Charles tightened his grip on his armrests. His eyes met Hank's, who simply winced. Charles turned, already knowing what he would see. Emma was standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her, a pillar of pure white ice.

The fury in her eyes, however, burned like a torch.

"Emma, I asked you to wait in the hall," Charles said quietly.

"Sorry. I heard raised voices, came in," she said, her tone dry, "But Vic. Also known as Sabretooth, right?"

Logan stared at her, the anger in his posture sucked out into one of guilt and shame. Emma left the doorway, her arms still curled around herself. She seemed to grow taller with each step, older, angrier.

She stopped a few feet from him, her eyes searching, but also, in a way, pleading.

"Did she...was it quick?" asked Emma.

Logan didn't answer. Emma's hands fell to her side, bunching into fists.

"Tell me goddamnit!" she screamed.

A moment went by, and, for the first time, Charles saw him turn away from his accuser.

"No," Logan said.

Diamond formed over Emma's hands, creeping up her arms, over her neck. Raven and Erik were looking at her warily now, and Charles realized what was about to happen, or what would happen if Emma were her mother's daughter.

Nothing they had seen that day indicated she was anything less.

"Emma," Charles said, "Logan did not kill your sister."

"He failed her though," said Emma, her voice echoey now, "I can see it all over his face."

"Emma, this isn't just about you," Charles said gently, "And you know that."

The diamond receded, but when it did, she wasn't a sixteen-year-old child trying to make her way anymore. All she was was pain and grief sewn into a skin, dying to break free and lash out.

"You deserve to die," said Emma, "You really, really do."

She looked over at Charles.

"I'm sorry Professor," she said, "I thought I could do this, but I can't."

Emma turned on her heel and, suddenly, Peter was in front of her.

"I get that you're upset," said Peter, "And I can't imagine what you're going through right now, alright? It...look, I know it's terrible, and I know that pain...look, it's more than anyone would be able to take. But we talked about this, and the Professor's right. This isn't just about you. Think about Laura and what she needs!"

Logan's head lifted fractionally, his brow furrowing. Charles let go of Moira's hand and began wheeling forward, his heart pounding.

"First off, you don't know anything about her and what she needs. And I get what you're trying to do, I really do," said Emma, "But I can't do this with him, understand?"

Peter put out a hand to stop her, and she slapped him away.

"Hey, you came to me and asked, and now you're just gonna ignore it-"

"Yeah, why did I even bother with you?" she snapped, "You're just a coward when it comes down to it, you know that?"

"Oh really?" asked Peter, "So you want Laura to end up like me then, huh? Too damn scared to say anything because 'you can't do this?'"

"Maybe she'll end up like my sister!" Emma shot back, "Maybe it's just good genetics!"

"That is not how that works dammit!" shouted Peter.

 _Both of you, stop now!_

Neither looked at him, their breaths coming in harsh and angry. It came as a shock to Charles, more than he would like to admit. He'd never seen Peter this angry. His whole body tense, coiled, as if he would spring at any moment, and it boded ill. He'd seen Erik in similar moods before he lost control, before someone was hurt-

Erik.

Words and thoughts fled. Charles stopped moving. He forgot where he was, what he was trying to do.

God in heaven, how had he not seen this before? It was right there for everyone to see.

"What...what the hell are you two talking about?" asked Logan.

Emma glared at Peter.

"You want me to tell him, huh?"

"That is not what I said!" Peter snapped, "What I said was-!"

He fell abruptly silent, a shocked look on his face as Emma whirled around. Her blatant use of her gift shook Charles, and he scrambled to get ahold of himself.

"Alright, here's what we're talking about," she said, "One day, because Essex is a sick bastard, he decided it would be fun to have his own little science project, designed just the way he wanted it!"

 _Emma, this isn't the way-_

 _GO AWAY!_

 _Don't-_

 ** _YOU SAID IT WAS MY CHOICE, DIDN'T YOU?_**

"And he took Kayla's DNA and he mixed it with a freak like you!" Emma said, hot, furious tears flowing down her face, "And he made a little girl with her eyes and your shitty powers, and now the blood of the man that killed my sister flows in the daughter she never got to hold!"

Her words echoed through the room, through the ears of the X-men and into their heads as they put the puzzle pieces from the last few months together. Faces became drawn, pale, uncertain.

But it was Logan he watched. The words seemed to slide into him, each one its own weapon, each inflicting its own special wound. And as Charles watched his face, he knew that Moira had been right, at least in a sense: he'd loved Kayla.

She'd also been wrong though, because the love on Logan's face wasn't the kind that came with a normal relationship. It was a look he recognized ll too well from the mirror after nights spent searching for Moira in Cerebro.

Whatever they had been, whatever love they had shared, it had been the kind pushed past the word, to the point where it was something that had become part of who he was. It had gone to where he could imagine a future with her, a daydream of joy and acceptance, of finally being enough for someone.

And then it was snatched away, only, in a fashion, to be dangled in front of him.

But Emma couldn't have seen that. She had already turned, shoving Peter out of the way, fleeing from the room.

"And you will never, ever deserve Laura!" she screamed.


	22. Chapter 22

Kurt teleported, helping Peter to his feet. Peter used the back of his hand to wipe off the blood on his lip, his face still angry, but hurt too. Charles wanted to say something, to tell him that, perhaps he had been too brash.

He couldn't though. With his goggles pushed up, Peter looked too much like Erik might have once looked if life's bitterness hadn't soaked into his skin.

"Why the hell did she ask us if she wasn't gonna listen?" Peter muttered.

Kurt didn't answer, just looked at his feet. Peter, however, looked past Kurt and at Logan. His face was a mask of that same special pain that Charles had seen earlier, that same bone-deep shock.

"I think everyone should leave now," said Charles.

"I think Kurt and I should stay," Peter said.

His voice wasn't hostile, but the note of sullen defiance was unmistakable.

"Don't know about everyone here, but I think most of you had fathers," he said, "Maybe the people who don't should have a voice in this."

Kurt pulled into himself, almost as though he were embarrassed to have the spotlight shined on him. At the same time, Peter gave him a firm look. So, even though he clearly didn't want to be there, Kurt nodded.

Charles was too tired to argue.

"Alright, everyone else out," he said, "We'll figure this out later."

Scott and Storm looked slightly affronted, but Jean was already pulling Scott out. She gave Logan a sympathetic look, perhaps being in his mind had given her some insight into what his feelings might be. But the situation was already complicated enough, and she understood that. He blessed her for it.

Reluctantly, Storm followed. Hank, Raven and Erik made no move to leave though. When his three students had left, they hadn't done more than turn their attention to Logan. Again, he was too tired to argue.

"Essex can do that?" asked Erik, "Create someone?"

"We think so," said Hank, "Laura is...a special case."

He gave a nervous look at Logan, but when Logan didn't even turn to him, he continued.

"She hasn't been exposed to a lot of things, and we had to teach her to read recently," he said, "She has a sharp intellect, but she's very innocent. She speaks of...past experiences matter-of-factly. She's not adverse to touches or affection, but she can't understand what certain words mean. TV amazes and frightens her in turns, so we've tried to keep her away from it, but, again, she's still working on reading."

"She wants to be normal," said Moira, "She just wants to be liked, and she's done a pretty good job at making friends."

"That true?" Logan said, "What Emma said?"

Logan's sudden words surprised Charles. Had he been listening? Honestly, after having it screamed at him that he'd had a daughter created with his DNA and that of the woman he loved, Charles couldn't blame him if he hadn't.

"That it appears Essex created a child based on your DNA and Kayla's?" asked Charles, "Yes, that much we believe is true. She appears to be around six, and we think some sort of age enhancement tool might have-"

"Not that," Logan said, "That she has her eyes."

Again, the question took him aback. However, he clearly expected an answer. Charles concentrated for a minute. It would have been easier if he'd asked about her hair or her nose, because those features were certainly prominent in the child.

The eyes were more difficult. He'd seen glimpses of Kayla in Emma's memories, and he tried to match the two. They were the same color, certainly, but there was something about the question that implied that wasn't what he was talking about.

He concentrated on a memory of Emma bringing home an A+ on a test in a class she'd been failing. Kayla, who'd still been studying to be a teacher, had seen the grade, one Emma had kept secret until that moment. Slowly, warmth had spread in her eyes until she'd laughed and hugged Emma, telling her they'd have pizza that night.

Then he thought of Laura, of introducing her to her class. He remembered how warmth had spread and burst in her eyes when almost everyone smiled and waved.

"Yes," said Charles, "That's true."

Logan didn't say anything, just stared at the floor, his eyes intense.

"And she has your mutation," said Hank, "I, I honestly think that might have been why Essex created her. He wanted to try to recreate your mutation, and he got the healing part and heightened senses down pat. The claws...those didn't come as easy."

"So it's obvious he's her father?" asked Peter.

"Genetically, yes," Hank said.

"Oh come on," Peter said, "Don't give me a dumb answer like that. He's her father, right?"

"Closest thing she has," said Hank, affronted.

Peter gave a quick nod, and then rushed up to Charles. He crouched down so they were eye level.

"Emma doesn't have the final say on this, right?" asked Peter, "He's her father, so if he wants to see her and stuff, she can't stop him."

"It's not that simple Peter," said Charles.

"I know it's gonna cause some problems, but come on," Peter said.

Charles rubbed his face, wondering when all of this had gone so insane.

"For lack of a better term, Emma is Laura's guardian," said Charles, "Laura loves and trusts Emma implicitly-"

"She's sixteen! That doesn't sound legal to me or anything," Peter said.

"I'm not getting into the legalities of the foster and guardian system with you Peter," Charles said, "According to the law, Laura doesn't even exist, and things look very different to her. Right now, Emma is Laura's family, and she has a seat at the table."

"But she can't have the only seat!" said Peter desperately, "I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, I swear, but Laura's gonna wonder about this when she gets older. She's gonna wonder more and more, and she's got Emma to tell her about her mom, but nothing on her dad. It matters, knowing where you come from, even if she doesn't care right now-"

"She cares right now," said Moira.

Her voice was so soft that Charles almost didn't catch it. But he did and, from the expression on Peter's face, he did too.

"When we found Laura, and Emma said she was her aunt, she asked if she had parents," Moira said, "And when Emma said Kayla was dead, she asked if she had a father. Emma said she didn't know who he was."

"There you go," Peter said, "Kurt, back me up here. You said you cared who your parents were, right?"

Kurt looked flustered at being called on, shrinking away.

"Ja, of course," said Kurt, "I just vish...vell, vas..."

He licked his lips, again shrinking from the multitude of eyes. Peter suddenly appeared next to Kurt, one of his hands on Kurt's shoulder.

"Come on man, this is tough, I know," he said, "But you heard Emma the other night. She doesn't give a damn about her father. Think about Laura here."

Kurt swallowed.

"Sometimes I vonder if zey even wanted me," Kurt said, "I mean, I know that I do not look normal. I know this. But Laura, it will be different. Vhen she is older, and she learns she was made, ja, zhen...how does that feel? Who were these people they took things from? Vould zey be disgusted if they knew? She vill vonder."

Raven looked away, almost as though she were about to be sick. Charles prayed Kurt wouldn't say anymore. These were words Raven needed to hear, but they were also ones that needed to be said in a different venue.

He could only take care of one parent-child relationship at the moment, and Laura's was in a critical moment.

"I understand," Charles said, "But right now Emma is not open to reason from you, and she made it very clear that she didn't want me interfering in her choices-"

"How about I talk ta her?"

Everyone turned. Logan was still looking at the ground but, after the words left his lips, he looked up.

"She made it fairly clear she didn't want anything to do with you," Erik said.

Logan didn't look at him, but, instead, fixed his attention on Charles.

"If Laura's got Kayla in her, then she's gonna have a lotta good things," he said, "But I've got a lotta screwed up genes, and her mutation's gonna get stronger as time goes on. I might not look it, but I was a sick kid growin up. I caught something that nearly killed me every winter until I was fourteen."

He held out his hands. Three metal claws unsheathed themselves. Kurt jumped back, but Peter just blinked in surprise.

"It's gonna be tough for her ta have these," said Logan, "There'll be a lot of aches and pains there she won't understand how to deal with. Too many senses comin in, and no one should have to do that alone."

His voice faltered, and the claws sank back into his hands.

"Emma's right: I did fail Kayla. I can't...I can't fail Laura too," he said, "She'll need me, and I..."

Logan shook his head, but didn't break eye contact with Charles.

"Gimme a chance ta fight for my daughter," he said.

The words were, like so many of the things he'd said, rough. However, he could once again recognize the emotion behind them, and he wondered if this was what Logan had meant when he said Charles had helped him in the future.

Even if it wasn't, there was only one thing he could do with such a sincere plea.

"I'll talk to Emma," he said

* * *

Essex pulled the last of the wires apart, tsking at the shoddy workmanship that had been done in the factories. Would he have to create each collar by himself, personalized for every mutant that came under his care?

Gingerly, he moved the machinery out of the way of the vials of Stryker's serum. While Stryker was a foolish man, this serum was amazing. He'd asked how Stryker had obtained it, but the man had been close-lipped on the matter. If he didn't have so many protections against telepaths, he'd have just slipped in and taken the knowledge.

But, for the moment, it would have to remain a secret. There was a knock on his door, and he rolled his eyes when Zero walked in.

"It's customary to ask for permission first," he said.

"I'll make a note of it sir," said Zero, "The Colonel wants to know when we'll head to the school. He said we're already behind schedule."

The Colonel. Zero's deference, and hostility, was laughable. Clearly he wanted Essex to know that he worked for Stryker, not him. Men's power plays were perhaps some of the stupidest things on earth, especially considering how much more advanced Zero was than Stryker.

"Did you advise him why we're waiting?" asked Essex.

"He said it was likely you were taking this too far," Zero said, "That we probably had all the leverage we needed sir."

Essex paused in his tinkering, but just for a moment. Zero was taking too much relish in this. He'd have to find a way to correct him later. Stryker's lack of foresight was a little disheartening though. It just hammered home how much of an idiot he'd elected to work with.

No matter. This partnership was rapidly hurtling toward its termination.

"Have you ever tried going up against Logan or Xavier without a fool-proof plan?" he asked, "As I recall, our last plan against Xavier wasn't fool-proof, and you all had seven kinds of shit beaten out of you by teenagers."

Zero flushed, but didn't answer. Essex smiled to himself.

"But that's why we're being more careful, yes?" he said, "And if Stryker is so desperate for progress, why don't you just release the scent before you go back to guard duty? I'll be more than ready by the time it reaches Westcheser."

Zero spun on his heel without even asking for a dismissal. Essex rolled his eyes, glad that the room was once again idiot-free. It wasn't in the original plan to release the scent this early, but risks were necessary.

Twenty-one miles wasn't, after all, that long to travel by air.


	23. Chapter 23

_We need to talk._

Emma pulled the quilt over her head.

 _Professor, I know what you're trying to do_ , she said, _But I meant what I said in there. He's not good enough._

 _Emma, no one will be good enough. I've seen how much you love your sister and your niece,_ the Professor said, _But Logan wants to know his daughter. You need to come out and talk about this._

She gripped the edge of the comforter, trying not to think of the peaceful way Laura was asleep on the top bunk. The other children had left half an hour ago, and she was finally getting the rest she was supposed to.

How dare the Professor try to ruin that for her?

 _She deserves more,_ Emma said.

 _And Logan deserves a chance to at least meet her,_ said the Professor.

 _Why does he even give a damn?_ asked Emma irritably, _He probably didn't even know Kayla-_

 _They were lovers._

The words shot a spike of cold through her.

 _She wouldn't. Not with him._

 _What do you really know about him?_ asked the Professor, his voice gentle, _He's more than you know._

 _His brother-_

 _Yes, his brother, a brother he hates_ , the Professor said, _Not him. He'd die before he hurt her. I know the type Emma. He loved your sister, and he wants to know his daughter._

She kicked off the quilt. In the next bunk bed, Amanda stirred in her sleep. Emma didn't want to wake her up though. She'd already been so patient.

 _Please Emma, just come to my office,_ the professor murmured, _He deserves to at least have his say. If you'd just hear him out-_

She grabbed the side of her head. Emma wanted this to be over with, wished Logan had never come.

 _If I do, and it's all shit, will you leave us alone?_ she snapped. _  
_

 _Well...yes. Yes I will._

 _And we'll never talk about this again?_

There was a pause, and she could hear him considering. Emma hated that.

 _Yes._

She got up irritably, grabbing her white bathrobe and cinching it over her nightgown. Emma was quiet only when she was moving through her room. Once she was outside, her steps were heavy.

How dare Logan presume to ask for this? If he was any kind of decent man he'd have backed down when he realized what his brother did. Laura needed a stable, nice life, not one with a bunch of killers. Emma had done many things in her life, but at least she'd never killed anyone. She hadn't even killed Martinique, at least not outright.

She threw open the door to the Professor's office and stormed up to where Logan was sitting. His gaze was level, and she saw how he opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her some rehearsed speech.

Tough. She wasn't going to deal with his bullshit.

"The Professor told me you loved my sister," she said.

"Take away the past tense, and you've got the truth," Logan said.

Emma snorted. She was so tired of this it was sickening. She wanted to go to sleep and forget that Laura had a male genetic donor. She wished Laura had never asked if she had a daddy, wished that Kayla and she had never been taken from home.

But it had all happened, and she was sick and tired of this latest wrinkle in her life. Couldn't she have some peace somewhere?

"Prove it," Emma snapped.

Logan cocked his head, and the Professor gave her a side look.

"Emma, going into his mind might not be a good idea," he said.

"What, because I might see he's lying?" snapped Emma, "What's he got to hide?"

"I'm simply saying what you're asking for is incredibly private, especially to someone who hasn't had control of his mind for a long time," said the Professor, "If he says no you can't just use this as an excuse to-"

"Go for it kid."

Emma sat down, her eyes narrowed. Logan stared back at her, his expression even.

"Grab whatever you want," he said, "I've done some shit things, but I know that..even if I couldn't save ya sister, I never stopped loving her."

She narrowed her eyes, hating the challenge there. Emma wanted to tell him he was full of shit, that he didn't know what he was talking about. Kayla would've never seen anything in him, she was sure of that.

So she put her hands to the side of his temples and closed her eyes. She saw a knot of tangled, twisted memories, of places that seemed to have been obliterated or shredded.

Then, she felt herself pulled toward memory in particular, one she could tell he was trying to offer her.

 _Logan stared into the mirror, his hands grabbing the edge of the sink. It was silent in the small cabin, far too quiet. Even when it had just been him and Kayla anywhere, he could always hear her. She was always doing something, some little adjustment, opening something._

 _She would flit from activity to activity, her eyes wide and her smile wider. But that dead look in her eyes on the way up had been the epitome of loss. He'd seen corpses with more animation._

 _And he understood, he really did. Emma had been precious to her, and having her killed for her disobedience must be crushing. She'd lived her life, morning, noon and night for the girl ever since this had all started. She'd killed for Emma, stolen-_

 _Lied._

 _He splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing it into his skin with his fingers. It was still unclear how much of what she had done had been for herself, if she had ever truly cared about him. In the end, she had taken his clearance and left after drugging him, something she never would've been able to do if he hadn't given her his heart more than a year ago._

 _But still, killing her when he'd known she'd done it for her sister, it was something he didn't have in him. He doubted he'd have had it in him even if that hadn't been the reason. Maybe he would've just walked away and left her._

 _Even then, he doubted he'd be able to stay away forever. The death in her eyes, coupled with why she'd done it, had made him betray his brother without thought. It had been too much to think those eyes would never have a chance to light up again._

 _He wiped off his face with his towel and reentered the room. Kayla was where he left her, her jacket off and her hands on her chest as she lay on the couch. Her eyes were fixed at some point far from him, the steady rise and fall of her chest the only sign she was still alive._

 _He thought of her when she ripped her sleeve, every time she'd linked her fingers with his. Logan remembered every single time her eyes sparked and glowed. Having them so barren felt like blasphemy._

 _Logan crossed the room and sank down on the edge of the couch, grabbing her arms._

 _"Say something," he said._

 _It came out as more of a demand than a plea, but he couldn't do anything to mitigate it. She needed to say something._

 _"Just, say something Kayla," he said, "You owe me that."_

 _Still, nothing. Anger filled him then, anger at what had been done, what had been taken. He should've said yes when she'd asked him if he'd come with her. Maybe they wouldn't have been able to save her sister, but she would've been able to cry, to know someone was there._

 _"You've got to pull it together," he told her._

 _Nothing, and those dead, bare eyes. He gritted his teeth._

 _"Goddammit, wake up Kayla!" he yelled, shaking her, "Wake up and say something! Yell at me, tell me to get away, to shut up! Say you hate me for not helping you earlier but say something!"_

 _Still nothing. She didn't tear from his grasp, snap, hit him, anything he knew she'd do normally if he dared take that tone. Kayla was defiant, bold and beautiful, but also smart and stubborn. If she'd had anything to say to him, she would've said it._

 _He stopped shaking her then, but he couldn't let her go. Letting go was never an option. He bowed his head, his breath harsh._

 _"Please," he said, "I...I know you've lost her, and I'm so, so sorry. But Kayla, please, you can't just...I won't...please."_

 _His grip on her shoulders increased._

 _"Can't ya just...if ya can't do anything else...can't ya just live for me?" he begged, "Aren't I worth anything?"_

 _Again, nothing. He gritted his teeth, and he realized that, though her heart was still beating, he'd lost her. He'd been too slow, not seen what she was really asking when she'd asked him if he'd leave with her. He hadn't been trustworthy enough, hadn't given her an opening to explain that her sister was alive and needed her._

 _Suddenly, he felt her fingers, cool on his cheeks. Logan's head jerked open and saw Kayla looking at him, tears slowly making their way down her face._

 _"You...you still...after everything...?" she asked._

 _"Always," he said, pulling his head up so he could look her in the eye, "It was...it was real for me. All of it."_

 _Her hands had gripped his face, her forehead touched his._

 _"It was real for me too," she whispered, "All of it."_

 _"You still have me," he said._

 _Her eyes sparked, and he felt the inferno spread into him. His arms circled around her, and her small fingernails dug into his back. Her tears dropped onto his skin, her hair falling on his shoulder. He felt tears he'd forgotten he could shed gathering in his eyes._

 _"You didn't...you took me away, you saved me," she said, "Even then-"_

 _"I'd do anything for you," he said, "Anything you need, I'll give it to ya. Anything I can, just, I'll never, ever leave ya. I'll never be able to replace what ya lost, I know but-"_

 _"I don't have to lose you too," Kayla said, her voice choked, "And that means so much Logan-"_

 _"You'll never lose me."_

Emma pulled away, clutching her hands to her chest. Tears stung her eyes and cheeks, and Logan looked at her.

"She woulda...it woulda meant everything to her ta know you were alive," he said, "And it means something ta me too to know you're still here, that this part of Kayla's life, it's not gone."

Her hands crept up from where they were clasped and onto her face. She wept then for her stolen childhood, wrapped up in experiments and pain, for a sister who was never going to come home. She cried because Laura would only ever know her mother through scraps and stories, that she was born with a void Emma could never truly fill.

But she wept for Logan too, because he had loved her sister. Children hadn't crossed his mind because, in all honesty, it had never occurred to him that he'd be able to have them. But she could see now that, if he'd been able to have children with her, he would've. He would've given Kayla anything if she'd asked.

Yet, instead of taking that journey, marriage, pregnancy, coming up with cutsey baby names, Kayla had been murdered. Their child hadn't been born with quiet expectation in the air and sweet, strong joy. Her mother hadn't been the first one to receive her, love in her voice. He hadn't been able to come in and hold the two most important women in his world.

Instead, Laura had been born into a lab somewhere. The first few months of her life were dark, and even now she was so very confused. She had someone who was trying to protect her, but that person was doing a terrible job.

"Emma-" Logan began.

"Laura's going to be your everything too, isn't she?" wept Emma.

She didn't wait for an answer. She wasn't silly enough to require an answer to something so obvious.

"She's the last bit of Kayla out there, and she needs a father," Emma said, "I'll...I'll introduce you two. And then I can, I don't know, maybe you'll need me for a while at least because you don't know who her friends are and what classes she needs-"

"Emma," Logan said, his voice low, "This may come as a surprise ta ya, but, while Laura's my daughter, and she's gotta be the focus of my life, you're important too."

Emma looked up, her vision still smudged, but confused.

"Laura ain't the only bit of Kayla out there," he said, "And I'm not gonna let anything happen to you either."

He put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. Emma breathed in, the breath shaky and unstable. She looked at the hand, and then swallowed, feeling more uncertain by the minute, offered a gift she didn't know what to do with.

Slowly, she slid her shoulder away. He took his hand back, not hurt, not exactly.

"You and Laura need to meet," she said, trying to use her briskest tone, "But she's asleep now Logan. I don't want...she's woken up sometimes, thinking it's been a dream, you know? I don't want..."

"In the morning," Logan said, his tone soft, "You can tell her whatever ya think is best, but how bout 10 right here, if Chuck thinks that's okay?"

"I'll make it available," the Professor said.

"Right," said Emma, "Right. And..."

She swallowed.

"Thank you for being patient," she said.

He smiled then, a lopsided, sad smile.

"Well, ya said it yourself," he said, "I'dve done anything for the mother. Makes sens the daughter'd have me wrapped around her finger."


	24. Chapter 24

Laura ripped her hairbrush through her hair, counting as high as she could as she did so. Her aunt was busy trying to buff the last mark off her new dress shoes off. They'd gotten scuffed when Laura had dropped them that morning, and she needed them to be perfect.

She finished with her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. Hair was sticking out of her hairbrush, but she couldn't care less. The hair that was still on her head was pretty and shiny. She probably had prettier hair than the mermaids in the Peter Pan story.

Laura put her hairbrush down and peered closer in the mirror. She cocked her head and pulled on her dress, making sure it was okay. The sleeves went all the way down to her wrists, edged in white. The rest of it was a pale pink, with what Emma had called a Peter Pan collar that morning.

She giggled when she thought about it. It was her prettiest dress. She hadn't even dared to wear it yet. Today was special though, because she was going to meet her father.

Emma had told her the news that morning. She'd jumped out of bed, trying to beg Emma to let her skip breakfast and go see him instead. She'd insisted that they were meeting at ten, and Laura had forced herself to be patient.

However, she had convinced Emma to take the bandages off her hands and feet. They had healed, as she'd known they would and, instead, her hands were perfect. She'd been less successful at getting Emma to let her borrow all the colorful stuff she was always smearing on her face, but the bandages were enough.

She bounced from one foot to another. Laura had only ever met one family member before: Emma. That had been so good, so wonderful. She couldn't wait for another chance to repeat it, to see that look where she knew that, no matter what those people in the lab coats said, she was loved.

Laura remembered hugging Emma, and feeling like she had come home. Life had gotten so good after she'd met her aunt. Surely, that was how all family was supposed to be like? Maybe life would get even better now that she knew her father, although that was hard to imagine.

Maybe it would be exactly the same, but with a father. Her eyes lit up at that thought. Yes, that would be good. He would be happy to see her, especially when he saw how pretty she was. Laura would probably embarrass herself at some point, but so what? Emma often looked shocked at the questions she asked, but she didn't get mad. She would explain all the confusing things, and he would too.

They were all going to have so much fun together.

Emma opened the door, carrying Laura's best shoes. They were ruby red, and she couldn't even see the marks she had made on them.

"Thank you!" she cried.

Her aunt simply smiled and got down on her feet. Emma was wearing a white blouse again. She was wearing a lot of white, Laura noticed. It made her look very pretty, and she wondered if that was her favorite color.

She slipped her feet into the shoes. Her aunt buckled them and, once she was done, Laura skipped to the mirror. Her reflection grinned back at her, and Laura grasped her hands together. She looked at her reflection.

Laura spun once, feeling silly and giddy all in one.

"How do I look?" she asked.

When her aunt didn't answer, she turned. Emma's eyes were filling with tears. Worried, Laura hurried up to her, gripped her legs.

"Aunt Emma, what's wrong?" she asked, "Did I...do I not look right? Did I do something?"

Her aunt shook her head and knelt in front of her.

"You look so lovely," said Emma, "When I look at you, I think about your mother. And he's going to see her too, I know he is."

"Will I...will I make him cry?" asked Laura.

Emma cupped her face.

"If you do, they'll be happy tears," said Emma, "Just like these."

"Happy...tears...?" Laura asked.

The concept was silly. She'd never cried when she was happy. She'd cried when she was scared, or when they had started making the cuts deeper so they could see how fast she healed. The day they started cutting off fingers was the worst of all.

"Yes," Emma said, "Sometimes, sometimes, you're just so happy, and your body can't handle it. So you cry, because you don't' know what else to do."

She leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"Now come on," she said, "You need to go to the office, and then I'll get your father, and you two can meet. After that, maybe we'll all get dinner. But you two need some hours alone."

Emma got up, and Laura grabbed her hand. She held it tightly as they went out of the room. She guided her to the Professor's office which was, when she opened the door, empty. Laura immediately rushed in and sat down on the couch.

"I'll come in first to get you ready, and then I'll get him," asked Emma, "And, if you need anything, I'll be in our room, okay?"

Laura beamed. She got up and hugged her aunt tightly.

"Thank you so much," she said, "You went and got him for me. You can do anything."

Her aunt gave her a sad smile, and simply held her for a moment before letting go.

"Now, behave," she said.

Laura nodded and sat down. When the door closed, Laura began swinging her legs back and forth, looking around. There were certainly a lot of books, and space. Lots and lots of space.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep from wriggling too much and wrinkling her dress. When she did, something rancid hit her nose. Immediately she covered her face, wondering what it was. Had someone thrown up in the office?

However, on her next breath, it smelt better. She blinked slowly, lowering her hands. The next breath came, unbidden, through her nose, and she found herself exhaling slowly. One more breath, this a little softer.

Vaguely, she got up from her couch and walked to the window. She opened it and took a deep, calming breath through her nose.

* * *

"Dammit," Erik muttered.

He shut the fridge in the staff lounge. Charles had told him it was probably a poor idea for him to wander around downstairs, and Erik had agreed. However, when he'd done that, he'd assumed there'd be something to drink other than Pepsi and Coke.

The door swished open and shut behind him.

"Oh, hey."

He looked over his shoulder. Peter was standing there, looking suddenly nervous and, for the first time since he'd seen him, somewhat tired. The boy had always seemed to have boundless reserves of energy.

"Sorry, were you like, doing something?" asked Peter, "Because, you know, I can get outta here, if you know, you want. I'm really good at clearing the area, you probably already figured that out-"

Erik held up a hand.

"Slow down," he said.

Peter shut his mouth and stuck his hands in his pockets. Erik straightened and shut the fridge door.

"I was just looking to see if they had something decent to drink around here," he said.

"There's Pepsi and stuff in there," Peter said.

"Not interested," said Erik.

Peter grinned and, a second later, a can of Tab was right next to him, the lid cracked. Erik stared at it for a second and, when he looked back, he realized Peter was halfway though his own.

"Professor Singer, he hides them under the sink," Peter said, "He thinks I don't know where they are."

"Why does he think you'll take them?" said Erik, taking a sip, "You're not staff, are you?"

"He's the only one who has a stash," he replied, "And uh, I'll be staff in a year or two. The Professor's got me working on a teacher's certificate."

"A teacher's certificate?" asked Erik.

Peter nodded.

"Yeah, just a few months," he said, "But he totally thinks I can do it. I mean, not what Hank teaches, nothing boring like that, but maybe art or-"

Erik couldn't help the chuckle that found its way past his lips. It was too much.

"What's funny?"

The genuine hurt in the boy's voice made him look at him, really look at him. He'd taken his hands out of his pockets and was holding them protectively across his chest, the Tab clutched close. The way he was staring at Erik made him think about what he'd just done, about how it might sound.

"That's just...I know that I don't have a great attention span or anything, but I'm good with kids," Peter said, his chin tilted up, "I get along great with Kevin and a lot of the other kids and you know what? I spray-painted my shoes silver, and that might not sound like it has anything to do with anything, but-"

"Again, slow down," Erik said.

Peter stopped, but he could see traces of irritation and, again, hurt, in his face. Erik wasn't sure why he'd taken his words so much to heart, but then again, he barely knew the boy. If he had to guess though, he would have to say it had something to do with the same thing that had made him stand up and try to act as a voice for Laura.

"I just find it funny that Charles, well, once upon a time he tried to make me into a teacher too. Not a member of the school exactly, but something similar," Erik said, "Didn't take, obviously, but it's...it's his way of trying to grow his dream."

He waved his hand, trying to find the right words.

"Anyone he perceives as having potential to lead others, to really make an impact, he'll try to put them in that leadership position," he said, "Why do you think Hank's a teacher now? He used to work for the CIA. Charles convinced him to take an alternative career path."

Peter looked at him for a minute longer.

"You're saying...he thinks I can be something?" Peter said.

"Were you even paying attention last night?" asked Erik, "I'm sure you know what a good thing it is you did for Laura."

Peter looked slightly taken back, but then shrugged.

"She just...I just figured someone needed to say something," Peter said, "She's real little, and she didn't know what flapjacks were the other day. Who doesn't grow up knowing what flapjacks are?"

The obvious answer was, of course, that Erik hadn't. However, he had the feeling that, just this once, Peter didn't need to be interrupted.

"And I just thought, Emma's pretty young, and she was kind of a witch about the whole thing, but she wasn't thinking right," he said, "But, just coz she was upset, no reason Laura should miss out on getting a dad, right?"

Erik crossed his arms, looking at the boy thoughtfully. It was difficult to think of him as anything other than a boy although, from his own calculations, he'd be in his mid-twenties around now. He just...seemed so young. Innocent in his own way.

"Did your father die?" asked Erik.

Peter looked up, his face flushing for some reason.

"It's a personal question, I know," he said, "But...the way you talked-"

"Um, complicated," said Peter, rolling his shoulder in a half-shrug, "My mom, she was engaged to her husband, and she had this fling with this other guy. She married the guy who raised me, my stepdad I guess, but he always knew I wasn't his. Until I was seventeen I thought he didn't like me because of, you know."

He gestured to himself and Erik nodded. For mutants, the simple explanation for rejection would always be what they were.

"The day he finally walked out, he told me that he wished almost every day my mom miscarried," Peter said.

The boy's eyes fell to his soda can and he flicked his finger at it.

"Szambonurek."

Even though the word fell effortlessly from his lips, it still took him a moment to realize he'd said it. Peter looked up at him, blinking.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"It means 'Cesspool diver' in Polish," said Erik, "Use it if you ever see him again. Seems pretty accurate."

Peter cracked a grin.

"He was a dick," he said, "He used to use this weird, nasty-ass stuff in his hair. I replaced it with boot polish one morning when it was still in his hands. He never noticed."

This time, when Erik laughed, it was genuine mirth, not rueful. Peter cracked a grin, and the door to the lounge burst open. Emma was there, her eyes wide and out of breath, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

"Have you seen Laura?" she asked.

"Nope," Peter said, "Why, something wrong?"

"She's not in the Professor's office," said Emma, her fingers clutching the door frame, "Logan thinks she went outside, and he went out to check, but she wouldn't do that. She was too excited. She wouldn't just leave-"

 _Everyone._

Peter went rigid, and Emma looked around. Erik knew she was hoping Charles was about to say that her niece had been found, but Charles's tone wasn't the one he used when he was about to say something good had happened.

It was the kind that came before a hurricane.

 _Hank just picked up on thirteen proximity alerts coming our way,_ Charles said, _I need everyone downstairs. NOW._


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N:** Sorry I haven't been responding to reviews lately. Things have been getting kind of hectic over here. I'll get right on it before the next chapter: pinky promise._

* * *

Hank had just managed to pull up the alerts on the screen when Peter arrived, Erik in tow. Peter blurred for a minute before returning with the rest of the X-men, one at a time. Kurt was the only one who was allowed to get there of his own volition, his smoke dissipating around him by the time Peter had brought a startled Storm by his side.

"So, thirteen?" Peter asked breathlessly.

"Thirteen," Hank said, "Heavy armament, moving very slowly."

He clicked on one of the images. Charles was immediately reminded of old army trucks, but done up in civilian colors. They had gone for a modicum of subtlety, but they hadn't really disguised themselves.

"And you installed cameras to watch them," said Erik drily, "Charming."

Hank shot a glare at him, but Charles simply moved closer.

"How much closer do they need to be to deploy the first line of defense?" he asked

"About a minute," said Hank, "It's why I need to be here, at least to start with. I need to put the key codes in to make the program start, and then it should be self-containing after that."

"What are we talking about?" asked Scott, moving closer.

Charles and Hank shared a look. While they hadn't had a chance to discuss what Hank had done to amp up security after Erik's imminent arrival had been announced, the first few layers were downright insidious.

"First off, they're going to say goodbye to those damn trucks," said Hank.

He typed in a few keys, and the stop sticks flipped all the way down the road, like a vicious animal bristling. The spikes ripped into the tires, sending one of the trucks careening into another, sending them off the road.

"Not bad," said Raven.

"That's the simple stuff," said Hank, "I figured it'd act as a good warning, and a decent way to shut anyone down on the road. Nothing's alerting me from the air, so I think they went in for a ground assault."

He typed in a few more keys. Charles knew he was arming the rest of the traps, and gripped the armrests of his chair tighter. While the soldiers had been stopped at the eighteen mile mark, it still seemed too close.

"The rest'll take care of itself, but we're still going to need people out there," Hank said. "If we've got special forces, I'd rather not take any chances."

"Dude, that's great, but I don't feel like getting blown up," Peter said, "And I have the feeling you have some things that go boom."

"You're right: I do," said Hank, "But it's got facial recognition software so it won't attack children or anyone in this room."

Suddenly, he winced.

"Well, everyone except Erik," he said, "And it won't recognize Logan either."

"Brilliant," Erik said.

"I didn't have enough scans of you to get facial recognition," snapped Hank, "And considering that the extra security was to make sure you didn't get us killed, I think I did a pretty damn good job!"

"Enough!" Charles said.

The words felt stale on his tongue. How many times had he had to say them, to almost beg his friends not to fight?

"We are dealing with a situation," he said, "It's likely this is Essex, and it's likely that's the reason behind Laura's sudden disappearance. The walls in Logan's mind are too strong for me to find him without Cerebro, and Laura is beyond my reach."

He held out his hands.

"In a minute, I will be sending you out there to deal with God knows what so it doesn't get to a building full of children," Charles said, "I need you to work with me on this!"

Erik narrowed his eyes, but, a moment later, Moira walked in, with Emma close behind her. The girl's eyes were shining, although not quite crying. They grew wide as the soldiers began to file out of their vehicles on the screen, looking suspiciously at the ground.

"Laura and Logan are out there," Emma breathed.

Charles glanced over at Moira, whose expression was simply set. Every now and then, he forgot that she didn't just work a desk job. Moira had done more than crunch numbers in her career: she had been in combat. It wasn't as heavy as others had been, but when her eyes darkened this way, he was once more reminded of the woman who co-piloted their plane to Cuba.

This, he prayed, would have a better outcome.

"Here's what I want," he said, "Erik, let me know if you have any protests about your placing, but I want you to trust me."

His friend gave him a side look.

"You don't want to kill these men, do you?" he asked, gesturing to the screen, "Because, let me be frank, I'm not particularly inclined to go easy."

The men were moving on the screen, separating into groups. Charles sent a desperate glance their way before turning back to Erik.

"Please," he said, "You know I have more here to lose than anyone if they reach the school. Please I...I need you to trust me again."

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If it's a them or us situation, it will be them," he said, "But I can promise you that I will try."

"That's all I ask," Charles said.

His friend gave him a disbelieving look but, mercifully, said nothing.

"I want Nightcrawler and Quicksliver to bring Cyclops, Storm and Marvel to hold at the fifteen mile mark," said Charles, "After that, both of you are to come back. Quicksilver, bring Erik there, then Hank. After that, stay."

"You forgot me," said Raven.

"Und me," Kurt said.

He breathed out slowly. His sister wouldn't like this, but he and Hank had been over possible invasion scenarios. They hadn't had this many people to fight against or coordinate, but they had agreed on this.

"You two are staying here with Moira, who'll be monitoring the situation using Hanks' feed," he said.

"Bullshit Charles!" Raven snapped, "You know I'm more seasoned than any of them! I won't just-"

"I need you here with Kurt in case someone tries to flank everyone on the field," snapped Charles, "If that happens, Nightcrawler can teleport you to the fourteen mile mark and cut them off! I haven't reached Logan yet, he doesn't even know-"

"Charles, they're almost at the seventeen mile mark," Hank said.

A pulsing, angry headache was beginning.

"I need to get to Cerebro," he said, "I don't have time to argue this with anyone. If all goes well, we can argue this later."

His eyes flicked to the screen.

"But right now, we need to defend the school," he said, "And we need to find Logan and bring Laura home before anything happens."

* * *

Laura wandered through the woods, vaguely aware that she was running. A branch ripped at the hem of her dress, and she felt one of her shoes squelch in the mud. Hadn't she been happy about how shiny they were?

Something tore at her hair. Another branch? She wasn't quite sure. Somewhere, a little voice told her that she should be worried, that something was wrong. Something was growing deep inside her, but every time it reached a certain point, she would breathe, and it would disappear.

Another puddle splashed beneath her foot. Mud splattered on her and, from somewhere far away, she wondered if this was what Neverland was like. Picturing the sea where the mermaids were was easy since the place Emma had rescued her from was surrounded by the sea. She had never been in the woods before: her aunt had always told her she needed to stay close. This was her first time.

 _Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter had continued, for a little time after the children left, to play gaily on his pipes: no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did not care. Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve Wendy._

Her aunt, where was her aunt? Wouldn't she be upset she left without telling her? Again, that feeling raised up inside her. Another breath quieted it, and dark leaves fell in front of her face.

 _Then he lay down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for she had always tucked them inside it, because you never know that you may not grow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; but it struck him how indignant she would be if he laughed instead; so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle of it._

She stumbled over something, and she manged to catch herself. Her hands were covered in mud, but she kept going. All of the dirt was staining her dress. Did she think it was pretty? Maybe she had thought it was pretty at one point. She didn't really care.

The smell was getting stronger, so that meant she was closer to it. Did it matter that she was closer to it now than she had been earlier? It must, or she wouldn't be following it. It was getting harder and harder to think.

 _Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence._

Questions kept arriving. Would she run this far normally? Everything she was doing seemed perfectly normal when she was doing it, but a part of her wasn't so sure, and she became less sure with every second.

There was noise ahead of her, noise and movement. Something about it struck her as wrong, but also as familiar. The scent was almost overpowering now, pushing out all the other thoughts that were trying to find their way to the forefront of her mind.

 _At such times it had been Wendy's custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her lap, soothing him in dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he should not know of the indignity to which she had subjected him._

She ran into the clearing. Immediately men with guns whipped around. She continued on because, in that moment, it seemed like what she needed to do. The scent was coming from here.

"Stop."

Laura's legs halted out from under her. They stumbled, almost tripping, with how quickly she tried to obey. She looked up and for the first time, a feeling overtook her enough to clear the haze.

A pale face smiled at her, the same smile it had smiled when they had timed how long it had taken for her to grow back her fingers. She remembered asking him what she was called or who she was, being told she was X23, and she wasn't anyone.

Deep inside of her, a little voice screamed. She needed to get away. What had made her go so far from her aunt, from her home? Wasn't she supposed to meet her father? Wasn't that why she was dressed so pretty?

Laura tried to run. Movement wasn't even a question anymore, but nor was it an option. With a growing horror, she realized she couldn't move, no matter what she wanted to do.

 _But on this occasion he had fallen at once into a dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part of his laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the little pearls._

Essex walked closer to her, kneeling in front of her. She wanted to cry, but he hadn't told her she could cry, and she couldn't. Almost companionably, he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Welcome back," he said.

 _Thus defenceless Hook found him._


	26. Chapter 26

The air blurred and moved around Moira. She knew that, one by one, the teens were getting their gear, getting ready to fight. The last time they had done so, they had helped take her to safety.

"They won't let me go with them, will they?" asked Emma.

She turned and put a hand on Emma's shoulder. The girl was shaking and, for the first time, Moira saw that she was just on the verge of all out panic. It was a drawn collected motion, but the girl was near her breaking point.

"They won't let me help," Emma said.

"No," Moira said.

"Because I'm weak?" she asked.

"Because you're not trained," Moira replied.

The girl looked longingly at where the rest of the teens were, and bit her lip. Moira knew what she was going through. She'd felt it in Cairo, while children and her friends had gone out to fight an ancient evil.

Even now, she felt that helplessness. If things were different, if she weren't pregnant, would she be out there with them? Moira wasn't sure if they would, or if Charles would want her monitoring communications and movements. It was still an important job, granted, but she knew what Emma meant.

Scott saw Emma looking and jogged over. He swallowed, one of his hands adjusting his bandolier.

"We're gonna get Laura back," he said, "We've only ever failed once, and that's never gonna happen again. We've got more people, and we'll even be able to bring back your grouchy brother-in-law."

He smiled.

"Besides, you should hear Peter," he said, "He's dying at another chance to kick these guy's asses."

Moira wanted to hug him. He might only be a teen, but it was thinking like that which made him seem so much older. The words were cocky, but they were also strong. They were the kind of words someone in Emma's situation needed to hear from the person going to rescue what little family she had left.

However, she didn't need to hug him, because Emma did it first. Scott blinked, his mouth opening and closing once or twice. Emma released him after a quick second, her breaths shallow and her eyes locked with his.

"Bring them home," she said.

"Yeah, of course," Scott said, "It's what we do."

"Hey, Cyclops!"

He turned to where Peter was making an impatient gesture at him. He wasn't the only one watching though. Moira could see Jean staring at them, wide-eyed. For a second, Moira got an uneasy feeling.

Then, they were gone, swallowed by black smoke and the swish of wind. Moira guided Emma to a chair, surprised at how easy it was.

"You can watch with me," she said, "We'll make sure everything goes alright, and we'll figure out when to send in reinforcements."

Emma nodded, her hands folding in her lap.

"Moira."

She looked over her shoulder to where Charles was.

"I need to get to Cerebro," he said, "There's no time to get the cell phones: we'll have to do this through telepathy. Only send in Mystique and Nightcrawler when you're absolutely sure."

"I will," she said.

He looked up and managed a smile.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're going to be so close," he said, "I know...I know how that sounds, but..."

She leaned down and kissed him briefly. His lips lingered on hers as she drew away, and she saw the worry, the fear in his eyes. Silently, she pulled one of his hands to her stomach where their son or daughter was growing.

Moira didn't know the gender yet, but the child was already precious to her, so very precious, a little promise who had only moved for the first time less than a week ago.

"He's never getting our child Charles," she whispered.

His fingers twisted in the cloth of her blouse for a moment, then he let go.

"He's never getting anyone here," Charles said.

He gave her one last look, then pushed himself down the hallway, an unspoken promise lingering in the air:

 _Because I won't let him.  
_

* * *

Laura looked at Essex, willing herself to scream, to cry. She wanted to do something, and she thought of what her aunt had told her only that morning. For the first time, she thought her aunt was wrong: there was no such thing as happy tears.

"Sir," one of the men said, "We're getting confirmation X24 is just reaching the target's location."

"Well, the timing really seems to be coming together this time around," Essex said, "Prepare to leave when X24 returns."

His smile broadened. He looked at her for a moment longer, taking his hand away and wiping it on his shirt. Without another word, he got to his feet, still smiling, and moved over to a box on the table.

She recognized it, with its shiny metal and thick clasps. So many new memories had been made in the last month, of warm beds, friends with pink hair, boys with pretty smiles, cookies, family and books. The memories of the boxes were always very, very prominent though.

As she watched him undo the clasps, distantly, she remembered watching him before. She'd usually been curious and, as time went on, frightened. Laura had learned that those boxes never meant anything good for her.

"Now, I have a welcome home gift for you," he said, "I had to make it just for you, because you just can't mass-produce good things any more."

Laura felt cold. It was a secondary feeling, as though she was cold inside, separate from her actual skin.

"But, once it's working," said Essex, "We'll be able to ensure you never wander away from home again. Won't that be wonderful?"

Everything inside her sank as he turned. She saw a collar in his hands. Again, she thought of the warm beds, of family, of being told she was lovely, or funny, or even people trying to spend time with her. The bright yellow cookies, a gift, stood out in her mind. It was all going away, and she couldn't even run.

He pressed a button, and the collar sprang open. Laura wished the last words she'd said to her aunt had been different. She wished she'd had a chance to thank her friends again, for Kevin for smiling like that and getting her help when she needed it. She wanted to thank his mother and father too, because they had helped her have what she knew was the best month of her life.

But she wanted something else. She wanted one more hour at the school, to turn back time, so she could have one hour knowing her father. He was waiting for her, and now she'd never get to meet him.

The collar was close enough for her to touch when she heard the first scream. Essex's head whipped around sharply, just as a man was thrown into him, knocking him back. The collar flew onto the ground, skidding away.

"X23, stay!" Essex screamed.

Laura wanted to scream back at him, tell him she couldn't leave, and he knew that, and he was mean, and he was a goddamn bitch. The words stopped before her tongue even twitched in response to her feelings.

Arms circled around her, lifting her up into the air. Thoughts of relief were quickly superseded by another thought, pulling at her, that she needed to make this person let go. She felt like she was suffocating, that she was in danger.

The strange smell burnt through her nose again. Her claws slipped out of her hands and feet. The soles of her shoes ripped, and she saw red.

* * *

The morning was quickly turning from bad to worse. He'd known something was wrong when Emma had come running down the hall, frightened and asking if he'd seen Laura. He didn't even know what she looked like, and Emma knew that, so he knew she was frightened.

He'd been able to smell the young girl who had been in Chuck's office only a few minutes earlier. The scent was a strange mixture of his own, of Kayla's, and something that was just Laura.

And he'd taken off after her. Every now and then he could see small, scattered footprints, sloshing in the mud and soft earth. There was a shred of pink cloth on a branch, like a little girl's dress.

Logan had known then that this wasn't just a child wandering off, not that anything was that simple. No, this girl had been fleeing. But why had she come out there instead of going to Emma, to anyone else she knew at the school?

The rancid smell that met his nostrils seconds later had been worrying, but only in a way that had made him vaguely uneasy. It had been too chemical, and it felt like someone had shot napalm up his nostrils. If she was anything like him, that scent must have been driving her mad.

Then, he caught a glimpse of her, a little girl in a dirty pink dress, her hair wild around her. Sweat had been running down her face, but he hadn't been close enough to get a good look. All he'd seen was Essex, and he'd known that, whatever else happened, he was going to have that man's head.

Right after he got Laura out.

So he'd dived in, yanked her away. But the sharp, stabbing pain in his arms drew him up short. He looked down, saw a version of his own claws, how they had once been, ripping into his arms and tearing flesh from bone. He yelled, but didn't let her go.

She was Kayla's girl. Letting go wasn't an option.

"Laura! Stop!" he yelled.

She slashed at him again, and he realized she was trying to get away. All around him, people were rapidly regrouping. Essex was scrambling to his feet, furious. Logan looked down at her, wanting to figure out why she was doing this, wondering how he could get her to realize that he wasn't going to hurt her. She didn't know him, didn't know who he was.

But then he saw her eyes, and he'd known that this wasn't fear she was feeling. Laura's face, while so reminiscent of a woman he'd last seen in pain and bleeding to death, was missing everything that would've made her human.

She was blank, only a dead echo looking back at him. Even with her kicking and slashing at him, with blood pouring down his arms and chest, he found it in himself to be furious, because Chuck had told him she had her mother's eyes. He'd told him that's what they were like, and that bastard had stolen the spark again.

He looked up, snarling, angry, not even thinking. Something pummeled into him, knocking him to the ground. Laura flew from his grasp, and immediately sat down, her dead eyes looking at him again. Her face was smudged with his blood and her hands covered in it. It churned up the feeling deep within him, and his claws came out as he turned into the next impact.

His brother's sneer met his eyes, but it became pained after Logan's claws sank into him. Logan kicked him away, then dodged a slurry of bullets. When his brother tackled him again, he let out a snarl, digging his claws deep into his back.

"She's your goddamn niece!" Logan screamed.

The words came out before he could think what they meant. It was him thinking out loud, furious to have to fight his brother over the future of his daughter. But it was Vic, and he knew they would have no impact before he even finished saying them.

Vic looked at him incredulously, and then threw him off. He started laughing.

"It's not your goddamn daughter: it's a thing Jimmy," snapped Vic.

He slashed at Vic's face, only just missing him. His brother laughed again, shoving him back. Logan hit something hard, a truck maybe. He couldn't tell because, right after impact, he felt the bones in his back break. He shouted, the searing pain pulsing deeper and deeper inside of him.

His brother walked closer, grinning.

"Dammit, anything ta do with that woman makes ya all mushy, dun it?" he asked.


	27. Chapter 27

The woods weren't anything special really. Peter had run around most of them several times, both for drills, and whenever he was bored. Some of the younger kids really seemed to like them, but he'd never been particularly outdoorsy as a kid. Mud also had a nasty habit of covering him when he ran in it, which was always.

At the moment though, he couldn't wait to get into them again. He'd overheard what Scott had told Emma about his desire for a rematch. It was true. While he disliked the situation, the idea of giving those assholes a taste of their own medicine again was too good to be true.

It was a little frustrating that they needed to do this more than once though. He'd hoped they'd learn their lesson after what had happened on Muir Island, but, apparently not. They didn't strike him as the brightest bunch.

Dropping everyone off was a little frustrating, simply because there were so many different drop points. He'd only ever been able to transport one person safely at a time. The risk of whiplash or some kind of injury was too great if he didn't use two hands.

At least Kurt was helping him, although Peter had been left to transport his father alone. He understood: he really did. It was logical, and Kurt would have to stay in reserve to help if something else went wrong. All of this had been planned out, and he guessed it was all very strategic and proper.

However, it was still a strange sensation to be transporting his father, and to know that he was his father this time. Was there a word to describe a situation where a son carried his father into battle, only the father in question had no idea that the other person was his son? He might not be very far into his teacher's certificate, but he knew that "ironic" wasn't it.

He did manage to drop him off though, and going back for Hank wasn't too bad. He might weigh more than someone his age had any right to, but it still wasn't too daunting. He had him situated to back up his father in less than five seconds.

After that though, it was Peter vs. Assholes, round two. He took a moment to crack his shoulders before he took off running again at the nearest group. He couldn't see where the cowboy-teleporter was, but he was sure he'd run into him sooner or later.

A bolt of lightning shot through the sky, and Peter grinned. It was time he got to work too. He zipped to the closest soldiers, collecting as many of their guns as he could. He wasn't sure how to properly disarm them, so he just made sure to break them.

Something came through on his radio, and, after finding cover, he stopped. It was difficult to understand people talking when he ran as fast as he did. Maybe he should just start asking Hank for something that would match his speed. Could he make something like that? If anyone could, it was probably Hank.

"Do we have visuals on the team members?" asked Moira.

"You mean team asshole?" asked Peter helpfully.

"You know what I mean."

A chorus of nos reached his ears. Almost absently, he dumped guns he was carrying on the ground.

"I'm gonna do a search for them," he said, "I'll head back. Mags, there's a bunch of metal behind one of the trees to your right if you need it, and Beast, any time you wanna make your security do something cool, feel free."

"It's on a timer!" Hank snapped, "And you can't go past-"

"Whatever man, whatever," said Peter.

He zipped away, headed toward where the men had come from. There must be some sort of command center somewhere but, even if there wasn't, he wouldn't be in any one place long enough to get attacked. That part was going to be fairly easy.

About halfway through the woods, Peter noticed the ground started to shift. He slowed down slightly to take a look at it, but grinned when he realized what was happening. Maybe Hank's plans weren't too far fetched. He'd clearly done a good job rigging everything up.

However, when the different pieces of machinery started spewing gas, Peter reevaluated his previous thought. He didn't know what type of gas it was, but he had absolutely no desire to figure it out.

He hurried back to his original position, the gas on his heels. It felt like it was clinging to his socks, although he was sure that wasn't right. Maybe. Was there a kind of gas that could cling to clothes? It sounded like there was, like something someone would make, but he wasn't sure.

Peter sat down next to the guns, touching the radio piece in his ear.

"What the hell was that stuff?" he demanded.

"It's called tear gas!" snapped Hank.

"Tear gas?" Peter gaped, "Dude, why didn't you warn me?"

"I tried! You wouldn't listen!"

"Did not!" Peter said.

"Yes I did!"

"Did not!"

"He's right actually."

Peter looked up as his father approached, one eyebrow raised. He scrambled to his feet.

"Did not," he muttered, "I mean, not really."

Erik gave an amused huff as he knelt down by the pile of guns.

"See, that's why being so fast might be a bad thing," he said, "You don't get a chance to listen very much I'd imagine-"

"I listen just fine-"

"And your vigilance needs a little work," said Erik, "You were just standing there shouting. What would've happened if I hadn't been friendly?"

Feeling defensive, Peter shrugged. His father might have a point but, after their conversation that morning, he was not going to let him think he was a screw-up. That laughter, while not directed at him per say, was a future possibility.

"I'dve figured something out," he said.

"That's not a-"

A gunshot cracked through the air. Peter fell to the ground, a searing pain shooting through the soft tissue of his leg. He pushed himself further behind cover, his back pressed tightly to the tree. His father did the same, his eyes on Peter's leg.

The expression on his face wasn't particularly optimistic. Swallowing hard, Peter looked down. Blood was trickling around him, soaking up the ground. He didn't see an exit wound, which might mean the bullet was still inside him.

"Goddamn it!" he shouted, "That just healed!"

* * *

Essex walked up, wiping dirt from his hands and the blood from his lip. Although still trying to clear off the dirt, he stopped by Vic, cocking his head. Logan willed his bones to stitch back together faster. He needed to get up so he could kick the bastard's ass.

"You...you're under the impression she's your daughter?" he asked.

"Go ta hell," Logan snapped.

A shadow passed over Essex's face. He snapped his fingers.

"X23, here, now," he said.

Laura hurried to get up to stand by his side. Logan stared at her, and her dead eyes stared back.

"What the hell didja do ta her?" he asked.

"I made her," Essex said, "That's what I did. I crafted every single genetic strand, molded her just the way I wanted to. Her healing factor and senses are prime. She ages at a rate I induced. I recreated your skeletal structure in her, and that is damn hard work, especially when you can't create a viable embryo from your blood."

He sneered and put a hand on Laura's shoulder.

"Vic, I think I should take this opportunity to inform you that you're unlikely to ever have children," Essex said, "Apparently the X-gene doesn't want to pass immortality on to everyone."

Vic snorted in disgust.

"It should interest you that, of all the DNA patches I tried to use, Kayla's was the only one that worked," said Essex, "Which is fascinating. You know, I actually used your DNA on her to try and implant an artificial healing factor? I believe that made it more cohesive. It didn't take much from her, but it was enough to give X23 her facial features. I would've made the child a boy if I could, but, if I wanted to be able to glue in a biological need to obey my commands using a trigger scent, well, it didn't attach as well to the Y chromosome."

He shook his head, and the sneer returned.

"What I'm getting at here is that this child is not yours," he said, his grip on Laura's shoulder tightening, "It's not a child. It's an expensive project, and it is mine. I made her with bits I borrowed from you, little bits of DNA you couldn't even understand. If she's anyone's daughter, she's mine, meaning I can do whatever I want with her, which is exactly what I intend. And I can tell you one thing: my plans for her have nothing to do with you."

Like a web, Logan could feel something spinning around his mind and weaving its way into his blood. He looked away at Essex, at Laura's eyes, and the strands began to grow hotter and hotter.

 _"It means the Wolverine."_

He started laughing then, the sound sharp and shattered as the fragments that were drawing together to become a new spine. Feeling was returning to his legs, and the laughter became stronger, angrier.

"Perhaps I'm setting myself up here," said Essex, "But what's funny?"

"That you think your scientific bullshit changes anything," Logan snarled, "And that it'll make me wanna destroy you any less."

Although the bone was still weak, he pushed himself forward.

"So get your damn hands off my daughter!"

Essex waved his hand, and bullets tore into Logan's shoulders. It hurt like a bitch, but his back was almost healed. Essex was walking away now, Laura following him, his brother smirking, and he needed to get to her. Essex couldn't take her, not when he had yet to actually speak to her, to tell her that he was going to take care of her.

He shoved himself up, and felt his back starting to splinter. If he'd stayed still another few minutes it might not have been an issue, but he wasn't going to stay still. No matter how many times they shot him he couldn't die. He just needed more time.

The bullets stopped, and he heard the thud of weapons being dropped on the ground. As he looked up, the soldiers followed their weapons, one by one. Essex turned around, Vic at his side, eyes scanning the woods.

Then, he saw them clutch their heads.

* * *

From his place inside Cerebro, a grim smile crossed Charles's lips. Essex's mind was fluttering about, thinking. Next to him, the one named Vic's mind was like solid stone. If things were normal, then being inside Essex's mind would leave him with no room to touch other minds.

But things weren't normal. Now, he was in Cerebro, and Essex truly was in his home. All around him, Hank's invention thrummed with power, a steady vibration and strength that seeped inside his fingertips and to his eyes.

"It's funny you should come here," Charles said, watching in his mind's eye as the two turned, the look on Essex's face when he realized what was happening, "Because, if I recall, I made a very specific promise when I saw you last."

He opened his eyes and gripped the armrests of his wheelchair.

"And I keep my promises."


	28. Chapter 28

Erik swore under his breath as he ripped the sleeve of his coat. The boy looked as though he was more frustrated than he was in pain, but that would change if he experienced too much blood loss.

It also meant that they had just lost their number one mode of transport and scouting. He'd assumed that, when Charles mentioned he was training up a new group of X-men, he was teaching his students practical skills when it came to the realm of combat, such as how to avoid getting shot.

He moved to wrap Peter's leg, only to realize there was no exit wound. Erik swore to himself. The bullet hadn't gone out cleanly, and leaving it in there for too long, while it would stem blood loss, was also not a good idea. He'd seen too many infection issues in his day to believe anything else.

As he debated whether to try and remove the bullet or wait an hour or two until they could rendezvous with Hank, he heard movement. Erik paused, realizing that, even though they were under cover, whoever had done the shooting knew they hit someone, and was trying to confirm the kill. Damn.

He tossed the cloth to Peter, crouching on the other side of the tree.

"Bandage that up," he said, "I assume you know how?"

"Yeah," Peter snapped.

"Good," Erik said, "I'll take care of your shooter, and try not to get injured again. I don't fancy having to drag you back to the school."

Peter opened his mouth, then turned away, his lips set in a hard line. Erik moved away from him, keeping low. He managed to move to another tree, and spotted the shooter from the initial team he'd run into while gathering information for Charles. He was flanked by two other snipers, all looking for whoever they'd managed to shoot.

He briefly touched one of the radios Hank had passed to him.

"I have visual on their sharpshooter," he murmured, "Are the others accounted for?"

"The Professor told me he found Logan's brother, but no sign of the teleporter or the one who works with electricity," Hank replied.

"The last one should still have a feeding tube, so we shouldn't worry too much if we can't find him," said Erik, "I'll take out the shooter, and I'll look into the teleporter."

He concentrated, flexing his fingers, and then stepped out from behind the tree. The two soldiers on either side of him were easy to fling back, to slam into the tree. The other shooter side-stepped quickly, and Erik realized that he, unlike the other two, was fully equipped with plastic weapons.

Well, it appeared they were learning. But, as he ripped the metal guns from the hands of the other soldiers, it appeared they weren't learning fast enough. That was going to cost them rather dearly.

Charles had insisted on no killing though, which required a certain creativity. He slammed the metal guns into their faces, allowing the metal to crunch their noses in and knock them unconscious. The metal pieces inside of their gloves, used as zippers and clasps, turned in on them. If they had been awake, they might have cried out from the way that their fingers had broken. There was no way they would be able to hold a gun that night, or possibly any other night.

He caught a glimpse of the third shooter, and sent out what pieces of metal the others had been wearing after him. He smiled to himself as one piece of shrapnel embedded itself in the man's leg, bringing him down. The man was still dangerous though, and Erik made sure to duck behind a tree before he continued with his attack, namely melding that piece of metal into shackles for his feet. Another pair of bindings was being fashioned for his hands.

His mind was filled with the intricate manipulations necessary for such an action when he turned and saw the air flicker in front of him. It was just enough time to register the appearance of the teleporter, and to know something was wrong.

The next thing he felt was the air shift near him, and the teleporter was gone. He turned and saw where, about fifty feet away, Peter had slammed the man into a tree, putting emphasis on his wrist. Erik watched as the knife in his hand clattered to the ground.

He threw out his hand, slamming it into the man's leg to pin him to the tree. The teleporter cried out, and Peter slammed his fist into the man's face. With that taken care of, Erik turned back to where the sniper was, or where he was supposed to be.

The sound of the shots reached his ear and, although one skimmed his cheek, he managed to get behind the tree in time. Shrapnel was still thick on the ground, and he finished the work he'd begun. It was more sloppy this time, more bands and less sophisticated handcuffs, but it was enough to bring him to the ground.

He got up then, walking over to where Peter was. The boy was leaning up against the tree where the unconscious teleporter was. Peter was breathing hard, and Erik realized he hadn't bothered to bandage up his leg before he'd started running.

The wound had widened considerably into a gash that ran down his leg. Apparently the tear had been closer to his Achilles's tendon than Erik had initially thought, and running had aggravated it to the point where it had widened and lengthened.

"Sit down," Erik ordered.

Peter obeyed, his face drawn. Erik made sure that they had plenty of cover before ripping off a large piece of the teleporter's pant cuff. He had no idea where the cloth he'd originally offered Peter was, and he wasn't going to tear his sleeves again when an enemy's resources would work.

He began binding the wound, not looking at the boy's face. His blood was already staining his fingers, reminding him of too many friends whose wounds he'd patched, too many scrapes and cuts he'd bandaged for his daughter.

"This is going to need stitches," he said.

"I heal fast," Peter said.

"If you run on this any more tonight, then you probably won't," said Erik irritably.

The leg tensed, and he could practically see the sulk on Peter's face.

"I can stop the bleeding, but Hank will have to see to it to make sure it heals properly," Erik said.

"We call him Beast out in the field," muttered Peter.

He did look up then, his fingers stilled for a minute in annoyance. Did the boy realize just how close he'd come to catastrophe that night, how serious the wound was? Peter had a Devil-may-care-attitude, one that had initially impressed on him that the boy had no idea of the strength of his gift. Recent events had made him reevaluate that, but his level of immaturity was once again showing.

Yet, when he did look up, he saw the boy had turned away, his eyes on a distant point. He was gritting his jaw together, probably against the pain. Erik looked back at the wound, and wondered if Peter had felt it widen, had felt the pain, and kept running anyway.

His eyes slid back to the now-unconscious teleporter, to where the knife was imbedded in his leg. The weapon, he realized for the first time, had been meant for him, probably would've done some damage, if Peter hadn't arrived.

He sighed, the sound harsh and, admittedly, reluctant.

"What you did was very foolish," he said, "But thank you."

Peter looked back, his eyebrows almost invisible to where they were raised behind his goggles. The boy swallowed once, and then grinned.

"Well, ya know," he said, "Wouldn't want to have to drag you back to the school."

Against his better judgement, Erik chuckled.

* * *

Laura wanted Essex to stop touching her. His hand on her shoulder felt like tiny branches curling and crushing her shoulder. She wanted to weep and cry and tell him to let go, and people were shooting the man she was starting to believe was her father. Everything was so hazy and she was having trouble hearing everything, so she wasn't sure, but she couldn't take that cahnce.

 _Laura._

The voice trickled into her head like a cool drink of water on her parched throat. She breathed in.

 _Laura, this is the Professor, Kevin's father. I need you to concentrate._

 _I'm trying_ , she said.

 _I know,_ he replied, _I can feel it. But there's something holding you back, something in the air. I need you, and I know this is going to sound very strange, but I need you to breathe as little as possible. Don't pass out, but try not to take deep breaths. Can you do this?_

She wanted to swallow, but she couldn't. So much of what she could do wasn't under her control, but she could try.

 _Yes_ , she murmured.

 _Thank you Laura, you're very brave,_ he said, _Start now, while I can help. I don't know how long I can stay._

Laura concentrated, and managed to hold her breath slightly. It was a struggle, but she managed. It was uncomfortable, and her body shook with protest. But the haze was starting to clear slightly from her mind. With each consecutive second, she could hold her breath for a little longer.

 _Good. I need you to get to Logan, the man with the sideburns. He's your father and- no!_

The word was sharp, and she could feel the coolness disappear. His words remained in her head though, and she looked at the bleeding man with the sideburns. So he was her father, and she needed to help or run, or do something.

The ability to do that seemed more and more within her reach. She was starting to feel herself again, really feel herself. So when Essex tried to pull her with him, things were clear enough to where she could dig her heels in.

He glared down at her, his eyes blazing. It was frightening, and she thought of the few times she'd seen him truly get angry. Laura had cried in the corner then, but that wasn't really an option now, and she wanted to get to her father.

However, there was something else frightening in his eyes now. It was like he was fighting a little war somewhere inside. It was making him angrier by the second, and his grip was getting so tight she thought he might try and pull the bone from her shoulder.

"X23, come with me!" he commanded.

Her body screamed to obey. Laura held her breath again, digging her heels further into the ground. The haze was rapidly thinning now, even though her insides were burning, and her vision was going in and out of clarity. The Professor had told her not to do that, she thought, but she needed a clear mind. Her father was shouting behind her, and there were more gunshots.

Essex leaned down and grabbed her face. Her cheeks squished together, forcing her lips open. Did he realize what she was doing? Her jaw ached, and he glared down at her, the fight intensifying in his eyes. He was panting, really, truly struggling with something.

But so was she. Laura needed to get to her father. She needed that hour she had desperately wished for only minutes earlier, and she needed the hour after that and after that. Laura needed the chance to get to know him, to tell her aunt something nice, to be with her friends again.

What was she supposed to do though? Laura was frightened, wanted him to get his hand off of her, wanted her father to come, to be safe again. She wanted to cry. Laura didn't know how to make any of those things happen.

 _"Peter flung my arm," he said, wincing, "to a crocodile that happened to be passing by."_

 _"I have often," said Smee, "noticed your strange dread of crocodiles."_

 _"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected him, "but of that one crocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked my arm so much, Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea and from land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me."_

She blinked once, and held her breath. A thought was coming to her, in a mind rapidly clearing from haze. It was scary, but so was looking at Essex, and so was the thought of going back to wherever she'd been. Her lungs trembled, and black spots started to dance around the periphery of her vision. Again, the Professor had told her not to do this, but it was needed.

Another thought came then, insidious and joyful.

 _He deserves it._

When the black spots had almost taken over, she opened her mouth as far as she could, and bit deeply into Essex's hand. He cried out and she applied more pressure, even as her nose sucked in air. Her teeth sheared through layers of skin, of muscle and flesh. Something crunched against her teeth.

Essex let go, his hand ripping and tearing as he pulled away. Some of his fingers dangled off his hand. Blood ran down her chin and onto her dress. She trembled at the taste, at the way the copper tang seemed to pleasantly set fire to all of her senses.

Then, arms circled around her again, and she curled up. The haze was clouding her mind, but she plugged her ears so she couldn't hear any commands. Laura took sips of air, bigger than she wanted, but she couldn't help it.

And yet, she felt calm, because it wasn't Essex who was pulling her away. It was her father.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So, as some of you might have noticed, this story is getting close to where I would usually end a story. However, we have a few unresolved things here, what I've been building with Peter and Erik, Raven and Kurt, and definitely Charles and Moira with their new baby, and Kevin seeing his new sibling. _

_I realized a few days ago that I wouldn't be able to wrap all of this up in three stories, so I recently came to the decision to extend this particular series to four. This is my first time doing something that was planned for a trilogy that became four stories, but, at this point, I can't wrap up all the plot threads that I introduced in a satisfactory way unless I make this story massive or do a rushed job._

 _So, as Kevin said in this story, there's still a lot of pages left._


	29. Chapter 29

A flurry of images flickered on the screens in front of her. Moira watched as Erik bound up Peter's leg, no doubt muttering admonishments. He must have said something semi-encouraging though, since Peter was grinning.

In the northern section, she watched Scott blast a section of soldiers, with Jean acting as back up. Storm easily blew away one group before moving to where she could assist Hank, who had picked up one of the trucks and thrown it out of the road.

"They're doing pretty good, all things considered," Raven said.

"You and Charles trained them well," said Moira.

Raven gave a terse nod, her eyes scanning the images.

"All except Peter," she said, "We probably shouldn't have put him so close to Erik."

"He's going to get hurt trying to impress him, or get hurt even more," Moira said.

"Vhy vould he do zat?" asked Kurt.

Moira felt Raven's eyes on her, but she didn't say anything. Charles had shared his suspicions concerning Peter with her, and the uneasy feeling that Raven and Storm had known, and not told. She looked at Raven for a minute, waiting to see if she intended to say anything.

When she didn't, Moira sighed.

"Peter tries to impress everyone Kurt," she said.

"He ist not zat immature," Kurt said.

Moira frowned.

"Vell, maybe," said Kurt, "But he vould not hurt anyvone."

"He didn't hurt anyone," Raven said, "He got himself hurt."

Kurt moved closer, leaning on the back of her chair. His tail was moving slowly from side to side: she could just see the spade out of the corner of her eye. Peter was walking, with a great deal of help from Erik, on their screen. Kurt's blood-red eyes watched them, worried. She knew he was impatient, anxious to get out and help his friends.

Right now though, they were all grounded. The rest of the team was holding the soldiers off and, despite Peter's injury, the rest of them were doing fine. Moira adjusted her headphones as Hank gave quick instructions to Erik and Peter concerning his injury. He assured them he'd be over as fast as he could, just as soon as he finished making sure there weren't any explosives in the truck.

It was all moving smoothly. However, they hadn't managed to find where Laura had gone, or if Logan had found her. He was a feral mutant so, next to Hank and Charles, he had the best chance at finding her. Moira knew Charles would be on the lookout, but she didn't know if he'd been able to find them yet.

Next to her, Emma had pulled her legs up to her seat, keeping her knees to her chest and hugging them close. Moira put a gentle hand on her shoulder, but the girl didn't even look up when she did it. Her blue eyes, almost red from how little she'd been blinking, just stayed glued to the screen.

 _Moira, tell Emma I've found them,_ Charles said.

Moira started, but quickly turned to Emma.

"Charles found them," she said.

Emma looked hopefully at her, no doubt waiting for some more information, but Charles fell silent. Moira frowned at that, knowing he wasn't one to leave things so ambiguous under normal circumstances.

"That's all I know," Moira confessed.

The teen slumped again slightly, and Moira wished Charles had at least given her an idea of where they were so she could find them herself, let Emma watch them. However, once again, no additional information was forthcoming, and she went back to clicking screens.

She sighed, and heard corresponding impatient movements behind her. Moira's thoughts drifted to Kevin. He'd be in science at the moment, working on his project. Maybe he'd spare a thought for his friend who was meeting her father for the first time that morning.

That was what he thought she was doing anyway, not that she was missing. He didn't know that this was what his mother was doing, that her day had taken a dramatic turn. It was like her old job all over again, but with less resources.

The lights flickered, as did the images on the screen. Moira's fingers paused over the keys, and she looked at the power levels. The display wasn't very big, and she had to enlarge it to see what was going on. When she did, she saw that most of the levels were fine, but the line to Cerebro was losing power.

Moira turned. Raven was leaning forward, her lips pursed. Her eyes met Moira's and she straightened, one hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"We need to check the generator," she said.

"Ja," replied Kurt.

Raven gripped Kurt's shoulder tightly, then narrowed her eyes as she moved out of the room.

"Take care," said Moira.

"Lock the door," Raven replied.

She headed out, Kurt on her heels. Moira took off her headphones and slipped them over Emma's ears. The teen looked at her, no doubt wondering what she was doing. Moira didn't answer the unasked question, but simply shut the door behind Raven and Kurt before locking it.

"Wait, you...you actually...?" Emma asked.

Moira sighed and returned, reclaiming her headphones.

"Emma," she said, "Something I think you should learn in life is that, when someone like Raven tells you to lock the door after her, you lock the door."

* * *

 _Thank you Laura, you're very brave,_ Charles said, _Start now, while I can help. I don't know how long I can stay._

It was difficult to stay in Laura's mind and help clear it while simultaneously slowing down Essex and Vic. However, it was possible, even with the strength of the scent and the two men's minds. He felt Laura concentrating, holding her breath slightly.

Her mind began to clear, and Charles smiled.

 _Good. I need you to get to Logan, the man with the sideburns,_ he said.

He glanced down at some of his power levels, trying to make sure he had enough power to carry through.

 _He's your father and- no!_

The power level dropped dramatically. Charles reached over, wondering if something was wrong with the power, if a line had been cut.

 _Ah, something wrong Professor?_

He closed his eyes, willing himself to concentrate.

 _You may have to start making difficult decisions here soon,_ Essex smiled, _Can you still fight me and Creed and help Laura? Don't think I didn't catch that. She's not strong enough to do this on her own you know. The scent was designed to consume her, bring out her feral senses._

 _Why are you here?_ Charles demanded.

He twisted some of the dials, trying to divert some of the power. Charles closed out part of his mind from his aid to Logan, trying to reach out to the control room.

 _Moira, Cerebro's losing power._

 _We know,_ Moira said, _Raven and Kurt went to go to the generator room to check what's going on._

 _Professor, I don't think your full concentration is on our conversation._

He pulled away from Moira and lashed out. He could feel Essex stumble in his mind again.

 _WHY ARE YOU HERE?_ Charles snapped.

Essex planted his feet mentally, and the ease with which Charles had torn into his mind began fading. Right now the most he could do was make his movements more sluggish instead of stopping him entirely like he'd originally planned.

There would be no repeat of their fight back at Muir Island, where he could truly fight him. It would have been an option had Cerebro been at full power, but he'd need to concentrate fully on Essex to achieve it now, and he needed to stop Victor too.

 _I'm here to reclaim my property,_ Essex snapped back, _You couldn't have just taken your woman and your bastard and left, you had to take my project too. I worked very hard-_

 _We have already clarified that they were not yours to take!_ Charles shouted, _And Laura wasn't your either!_

He lashed out again, stronger this time. It was clearly hurting Essex, but he knew he was taking his attention away from Victor while doing so. If he didn't get the power back up, then he wouldn't be able to do much more than provide a weight to Victor's movements. While Essex was the greater threat, he needed to give Logan time to escape with Laura, preferably without someone like Victor on their heels.

 _But they are for the taking, and I think you know that,_ said Essex, grinning, _And I think that you know that a second generation mutant with years of study, from womb to adulthood, is perfection. X23 was, well, a laudable attempt at such a project, but I want to see the DNA develop with a child I didn't create, manipulate those strands however I want-_

 _STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!_

Again, he lashed out, but he was still losing power.

 _It's very easy to get you to lose your temper when it comes to them,_ Essex laughed, _And really, I expected Logan to be something of an overbearing Neanderthal when I realized he thinks X23 is called Laura and she's his daughter, but you-_

Something came through Essex's side of the link, a searing pain that didn't quite touch Charles. He received the image of Laura, a river of blood streaming down her chin and onto her dress, her eyes wide with surprise.

While Charles wasn't sure exactly what was going on, he thought it might have something to do with Essex's hand, he still reached out viciously to press his advantage. Essex fell to his knees, and Charles slashed as much as he could while still holding onto Victor's mind.

 _Logan, run!_ Charles shouted, _Take her and go! I don't know how much longer-!_

And then he saw it in Essex's mind, the reason why the power was going out, what Raven and Kurt would be facing when they went to the generator. He stumbled in surprise, in disgust and a bone-deep shock, and he heard Essex laugh distantly.

Because, after all, this was the sort of thing only he would think to laugh about.

* * *

The door to the generator room was exactly where Raven remembered it from her childhood. Granted, the tunnels underneath the house had been widened and strengthened over the years, and a few additions were made, but this was the same.

Even before they got to the room, Raven saw signs someone had come through the area. She looked over at Kurt, motioning for him to stay close. He pulled his head down, his eyes scanning the outside of the room. He was getting good at this, and she felt a twinge of pride.

When she opened up the door, she did it slowly, so as not to alert the intruder too much. The room looked empty, dark except for the blinking lights. Raven touched the light switch, hoping it would just turn on, and that the intruder would be standing in the corner or in some visible place.

Yet, it didn't actually surprise her when the light switch didn't work. She rolled her eyes and, again, motioned for Kurt to stay close. They moved in together, his eyes reflecting a strange bioluminescence. It was something Raven's eyes didn't do, and Azazel's eyes hadn't. It was something that was uniquely Kurt, like his three fingers, things that always made her feel strange.

They had cleared the first area when she heard Charles in her mind.

 _Raven, you need to get out of there! Lock the door, I'll figure out a way to get around the power, just get out and make sure-!_

Something moved behind her. She turned around, and a fist slammed into her face. It hurt, but she absorbed the blow and grabbed the arm. Raven twisted it, and felt a knife knick the back of her neck.

 _Don't let her touch you! I can't get into her head while I'm in Essex's!_

Raven slammed her elbow into her attacker's stomach and jerked out of their grasp. As she turned, the figure fell to the floor. Kurt had managed to get behind her, to use his tail to trip her. Her hand lashed out and grabbed Kurt's tail.

"Take me to Moira MacTaggert right now," she said.

Raven wanted to laugh, to tell her to get her damn hands off Kurt, but something strange flickered in Kurt's eyes, and she got a good look at the woman. She was in her mid-twenties, her skin a light coffee color and waves of brown-black hair around her face. The blinking light from a collar illuminated five scars going down her forehead and cheek, claw marks marring an almost-perfect face.

It was a familiar one, but the last time she'd seen it, the woman had had milk-white skin and blonde hair, her eyes sparkling as she told them she was getting on with her life. While Emma Frost's features were most prominent in the girl that bore her name and gift, they were still a dominant presence in the woman before them.

And then she realized that the command wasn't an idle one, the reason for Kurt blinking at the world around him in confusion. Before she could do much more than move forward, the two of them had disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.


	30. Chapter 30

Emma rested her head on her knees, looking aimlessly at the screens. No matter how many Moira clicked through, it seemed like her niece and Logan were nowhere to be found. Where had they gone?

She closed her eyes, wishing she was still asleep, or that it was last night and she had brought Laura to Logan immediately. Emma wasn't sure if that would've helped, but it would've been something different. Who knew what could change what in the world they lived in?

 _Moira! Emma!_

She bolted upright. The Professor's panic was bleeding through the connection, and it filled her veins with electricity. Moira stopped clicking through the cameras, her eyes wide. Noise was coming down the hall, and Moira ran for the wall and opened a cupboard. Emma didn't know what she was doing, but quickly followed her.

 _I need you to get out!_ the Professor said.

 _The door's locked and there's no weapons!_ Moira said, _Not even a flare in the emergency kit!_

She pushed it down, and looked around the room. Emma saw her turn her head and move toward another corner of the room.

 _They can't get in,_ Emma said, _The door's locked-_

 _Emma, that won't stop them, only slow them down,_ the Professor said, _I need you to listen carefully. Essex has the collars functioning. He's sent-_

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a cloud of black smoke. Emma coughed in surprise, taking a step back. She saw Kurt first, his eyes dazed and confused, but somehow still alert. A woman had his tail in her hand, tactical gloves exposing her fingertips.

The woman standing next to him turned, and Emma stared at her sister.

 _"Are you going to behave?" Stryker asked._

 _Kayla swallowed, and then nodded. Emma could feel the pain rising in her throat, threatening to overwhelm her._

 _"Good," he said, "Now, remember, you give me any shit, any at all, and I will personally come here and shoot her until even you won't be able to recognize her. Understand?"_

 _Kayla nodded, her eyes still on Emma. Emma was crying, because she didn't know what else to do. She wanted to throw herself to the floor, to beg Kayla not to go, because she didn't know what she could do without her or what would happen._

 _But she couldn't, because that would be weakness and, even at thirteen, Emma knew it would be useless. She knew the type of people who had them were the type of people who had killed her mother, pitiless, bent on what humanity was rather than what it could be._

 _"Now, follow," Stryker said._

 _For a moment, Kayla closed her eyes. Her tears were softer, quieter, heavier. Like her mother, she was a silent force, a being in the night. Emma was still a screaming child, pleading the world to be heard._

 _"I love you," Kayla said._

 _"Get moving!" Stryker snapped._

 _She took a step forward, and it was too much. Emma lunged for her. Martinique grabbed her around the waist, and Emma kicked her. A look of irritation passed over Martinique's face, and she slung her into a wall. When Emma looked up, she saw Kayla in the door frame, reaching for her._

 _Then, the door shut._

It had been three years since she'd seen her last, and the fat had melted off her cheeks, her neck and hands. Most of her sister's softness had been sharpened, hardened. Scars trailed down her face, faint but visible, not marring the woman Emma had once known.

Kayla turned away from Emma, just in time to have a fire extinguisher aimed at her face. The white spray enveloped her in a thick cloud, pushing her back and flooding the area. Kayla put her hands up, releasing Kurt.

He stumbled, still in a daze under her sister's power. But why? Kayla had once refused to hit back when two girls had shoved her in the hallway, not because she was weak, but because she was better. Footsteps clattered down the hall, and Kayla drew what looked like two guns, both different. Emma tried to get up, but she'd already shot both of them, one at the main controls, and another at Moira's hand.

A shower of sparks rained from the computer. But, in Moira's case, three small needles protruded from her skin. Moira turned, looked at it, and then stumbled. A drug. Her sister had drugged her.

The Professor's words about the collar made sense, and she felt the tears flooding her eyes. It wasn't enough to have killed her in her mind, in Logan's mind, even in little Laura's. Now Essex had to own her soul too.

Breathing deeply, Emma reached for her sister's mind. Once, she had been there almost every day, finding comfort in familiar thoughts, her sister's joyful words. She had opened her mind to be Emma's training ground. There had been no secrets there, and Emma had basked in her sister's wholehearted trust and acceptance.

Now, there was something there, keeping her out and slamming her back. Emma clawed at it, desperately shredding away what she could. It was like trying to bring down a brick wall with only her fingernails. She scrabbled, screaming her sister's name as hard as she could.

She fought against it, using every trick her mother had taught her, everything the Professor had said. She reached for the familiarity of Kayla's mind, for a home she had once stayed in, safe and secure.

For a minute, she felt something, like fingertips brushing hers through glass. Emma wept.

 _Kayla, please come back!_

A scrabbling noise filled her ears, but no more than those fingertips pawing weakly at glass. Emma tried to push back, only to find herself flung away. She opened her eyes, gasping, blood from her nose mixing with her tears to fill her mouth.

 ** _PROFESSOR!_** she screamed.

 _Emma, I'm trying!_ he shouted, _I'll stay here, but you have to open the door! Open the door or we lose all three!_

For the first time, she realized that, yes, someone was pounding on the door. Emma stumbled for it, the blood from her nose dribbling onto the ground. Her hands scrabbled with the lock as Kayla, holstering her guns, moved near Moira.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her begin dragging Moira, approaching Kurt once again. Her fingers felt fat and clumsy but, somehow, she managed to unlock the door and yank it open. Raven ran through, immediately charging Kayla. Emma stumbled after them, babbling soft, incoherent words as she begged Raven not to hurt her sister.

She had no way of knowing if Raven heard. She wanted to weep, to tell her this wasn't her sister's fault, explain. But Kayla was dropping Moira, and Emma could only move to make sure Moira fell into the arms of someone who could help, and not the hard floor.

Emma sank with her, and then looked up. Her nose was still bleeding, and she felt as though she'd run a mile. But as she looked at her sister, at the blank expression on her face as she fought Raven, she could only feel numb with blood and tears.

* * *

Raven grabbed Kayla's wrist. A knife was tightly clenched there, and Raven could feel the force behind it. Her other hand was on Raven's face, the fingers creeping their way to her eyes. The woman was strong and, from what she'd seen, experienced.

Not as experienced as her though. She managed to push up, twirl her around so she could slam her wrist into the wall. It was a move she'd taught the rest of the X-men but, to her surprise, the knife didn't drop.

Instead, Kayla threw her head forward, smashing into Raven's crown. She stumbled, but she used the new position to pound her elbow into Kayla's stomach. Every change in position offered a new opportunity, if only she were clever enough to take advantage of it. Azazel had taught her that lesson a lifetime ago.

Her arm scraped up against a bulletproof vest, filled with pockets and a tactical belt. Whoever had outfitted her, and she had a pretty good idea of who that had been, was spending good money to make sure she had whatever she needed.

Including a gun. Raven's eyes were drawn to it, and the knife came down again, a smooth slashing motion. It skimmed the top of her hand, and Raven thought of the gun, so close within reach, the easy way to end it.

Her mind filled with the image of Emma, the first Emma, the one she'd known, walking away. Raven had done the math: she'd been pregnant with Emma, her younger daughter then. Had she also known about the young woman Raven was struggling against?

It didn't matter. It probably didn't even matter that the collar around her neck was blinking rapidly. Whether or not she was being controlled, she had clearly come for Moira and the baby. Raven couldn't let that happen.

 _Raven, I can't stop her! Something's in there, and Cerebro...it's not helping right now!_

 _Just come down here_ Raven said, _I'll take care of things until then._

Kayla's knife moved. She'd been trained well, and Raven wondered just how many instructors she'd had. Essex struck her as the type to spend his money well. When it came around, Raven narrowly managed to avoid having it cut her throat. However, she didn't see the second knife, and this one buried itself in her shoulder.

She cried out, but Kayla was pulled away from burying it too deeply. Kurt had wrapped his tail around her legs and yanked her to the ground. The knife had come out when Kayla was jerked away, but there wasn't too much blood.

Raven still stumbled backward though, and caught sight of Emma. The girl was holding Moira and staring at them. Raven gave a snort of frustration. She'd expected more of the girl, even under the circumstances.

"Get her out of here!" Raven snapped.

Emma blinked at her, then looked down at Moira. Raven let out a groan of frustration, and started to pull Moira up. Emma finally got the message and started to drag Moira's unconscious figure out of the room. Raven hoped they'd at least used a tranquilizer that was safe for pregnant women.

Kurt let out a groan, and she saw that Kayla had slammed him into a wall. Raven ran forward just as Kayla's fingertips pressed up against his face.

"Take me out of here," Kayla said, "Right-"

Raven grabbed the back of her jacket and threw her toward the other side of the room. Kayla crashed into the desk there, her wrist resting on the ruined machine. Kurt moved forward, no doubt still in the thrall of whatever Kayla had done to his mind.

Fear overtook her. If Kayla got out with Kurt, there was no telling if she'd be able to get him back. Raven launched herself forward, going for the gun in Kayla's belt. Kayla slammed her elbow into Raven's collarbone, but she managed to get it out.

Raven aimed it, trying to decide if the head or the neck would be better.

 _NO! DON'T!_

Raven choked, dropping the gun as she clutched her head in her hands. Kayla kicked it over, snatching it up as Emma flung herself in front of Raven. The girl wrapped her arms around Kayla's arm, pleading with her. Kayla looked at her for a moment, and Raven saw the hope in Emma's eyes.

Kayla's fist smashed into Emma's bloody face, knocking her to the ground. Raven snarled, frustrated, angry. Stupid girl. But, even in her anger, she saw Kurt moving forward, saw him take Kayla's hand.

She rushed forward, grabbing onto Kurt. Black smoke billowed around them, and Raven saw the woods of her childhood. She got up immediately and moved over to where Kayla was still getting her bearings. It was disoriented to be teleported, but Raven had spent years with Azazel's hand in hers. It was still a new sensation, but she never forgot it. Being teleported by their son was like hearing an old song played over and over again.

Kayla, however, was not used to it. Raven slammed down her foot onto Kayla's hand, and the knife clenched there cut into her fingers. Kayla rolled out of the way, her fingers bleeding, and kicked at Raven's legs. She avoided it, and let herself drop, all of the power placed squarely behind her fist.

It came down into Kayla's diaphragm. Breath forced its way from Kayla's lungs, even as her hand came up suddenly. Her fingers brushed Raven's arm and Raven rolled away as fast as she could. She knew she had a strong resistance against illusions, even against telepaths, but this was new, and it was to be avoided.

Kayla pulled out her gun and, for a minute, their eyes locked. Raven didn't see any glimmer of anything intelligent, anything that would let her know if someone was in there. It was wrong in ways that made Raven want to scratch down to her bone. If Raven had to kill Kayla that night, Essex would be next.

Kurt tackled Kayla from behind, keeping the exposed parts of his hands and face away from her skin. He was learning. Again, pride flickered. Raven hurried closer as his tail whipped around, cutting Kayla's face and making her lose balance.

Instead of falling, however, she turned. Gunshots shattered the air, and Kurt stumbled backward. The world blurred around Raven as she pushed herself forward, but she couldn't move fast enough. Not to catch Kurt, and not to stop the next three gunshots.

He fell to the floor, groaning. Raven screamed and didn't stop, her throat filled with an inexhaustible supply of pain, and she clawed at Kayla. The woman slammed the gun into her face, and Raven pulled it from her grasp. She shot it once, her shoulder crying out, and Kayla jerked to the side.

The bullet landed in Kayla's shoulder, and the gun clicked empty. Kayla looked at her once more, than fled. Raven threw the gun away, turning her back on Emma's oldest child, and back to her only one.

Kurt was facedown on the ground, trying to push himself up. She knelt by him, pulling him up into a seated position. He cried out in pain, and Raven saw where the bullets had chewed his stomach into tatters.

One hand gripped him into a half hug, while the other went to the radio in her ear. She screamed for Hank. This was beyond what first aid she knew, involuntary tears were coming with each shattering breath from her son, and she needed Hank to come, because she couldn't do this.

Not again.


	31. Chapter 31

Charles pushed himself down the hall, leaving behind the useless collection of wires and sparks that currently made up Cerebro. With the power out, and the control panel damaged, it had rapidly disintegrated into chaos.

Raven had been right: he was no good there. The only good he could do was with the rest of them. His proximity might help him reach into Kayla's mind, to establish some sort of link with her. It had worked once on Nur, and he had been an ancient mutant who believed himself a god. Kayla was a good woman whose mind was being dominated by forces beyond her control.

He turned the corner, heard cries and a soft explosion. The door was open, and he wheeled in. Moira and Emma were on the floor. Emma was sitting up, blood making a slick waterfall down her face from her nose. Moira wasn't moving at all.

"Emma, what happened to her?" he demanded.

Emma looked at him, her blue eyes distant.

"She hit me," she said, her voice weak.

"Emma?" he asked.

"My sister," said Emma, "She just...she's never even...I think she called me an idiot once, but she said it different, like 'That was something only an idiot would do.' Not really called me, not directly. Just...but she hit me..."

 _Emma!_

Her blue eyes focused, and she touched her nose where the blood was.

"What happened here?" he asked.

She tapped the side of her head and Charles reached out. He was shown a scene of chaos and pain, of Kurt and Raven being whisked away. He also saw the dart land in Moira's hand, saw her slump in Emma's mind.

Initially, he'd hoped to come to the aid of his sister, lover and students. Instead, he was being forced to take a different route.

"Emma, get the first aid kit," said Charles.

The girl nodded, moving mechanically. Charles took a deep breath and, slowly, lowered himself out of the chair. He used his hands to crawl nearer to Moira. While his legs were useless, his arms, at least, were strong, as was his upper body. He pulled on the back of her jacket, pulling her into a position to where he was leaning against the wall.

He managed to pull her up again so that her head was leaning in the space between his neck and his chest. He propped his chin over the top of her head, and breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her skin. She was still there. Essex hadn't succeeded: she hadn't been taken.

Emma returned, her hands carrying the first aid kit.

"Have you stopped bleeding?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emma said, wiping the back of her hand across her face.

"Alright," said Charles, "Take the darts out, and try to rouse her. If there's any bleeding, then patch it up. Can I trust you to do this?"

"Professor, my sister-" she pleaded.

"I am going after your sister," said Charles, "I don't know if I can break her out of whatever's controlling her, but I believe I might be able to make contact if I try. But for that to happen, I need you to take care of Moira for me."

Emma swallowed, and then nodded. She knelt by the two of them, her hands going through the kit. Charles laid a gentle kiss on Moira's brow, taking another deep breath.

"If you...if you..."

He looked up. Emma's fingers had stilled over the contents of the first aid kit.

"If you do make contact, talk to her," said Emma, "Tell her...tell her something for me?"

"Of course," Charles said.

He listened, and nodded.

"She'll know what it means," Emma said.

Charles nodded, unwilling to question her. Instead, he rested his head on the top of Moira's, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Kurt's blood was seeping through Raven's fingers faster than she could keep it in. Between the two of them, they had managed to make something of a blockade with their hands. However, it kept coming out. It felt like her mind was seeping out with those precious drops.

Raven wanted to scream, even beg Kurt to please stop bleeding. But enough of it was still there to know that was foolish.

"Beast, where are you?" she yelled.

"I'm at the fourteen mile mark!" he said, "I just started running, but I won't be able to get here for another eight minutes. Six optimistically."

"Eight minutes?"

"Quicksilver's too injured to get me there faster," Hank said.

Raven could hear him panting on the other end of the line. However, it wasn't enough. Hank needed to be there immediately, needed to save her son. His eyes kept flicking open and closed, the same color as the liquid rapidly staining her hands and legs.

"Please, Hank, I'm begging you, just tell him to get you-"

"He could tear himself in half doing so!" snapped Hank, "The way the wound rips with movement, he'd never even notice until his head split in half! I understand, I really do, but you need to wait for me to get there. I can't...I can't have two dead students, alright? I can't."

She wanted to cry then, her hands tangling further with Kurt's. They were both trying to make sure that everything stayed where it was, that he didn't lose any more blood. It felt like their fingers were knotted together.

"Keep him awake," Hank said, "I don't care how you do it, but you need to make sure that he doesn't fall asleep, understand? He might not wake up if he does."

"Alright," said Raven, "Alright."

She looked down, saw Kurt's eyelids flicker again.

"No," she said, "Stay with me, okay? What do you think I'd say to Amanda if I didn't bring you back?"

His eyes twitched, his lips stammering as they tried to form letters.

"No, don't try and talk," she said, "I know you think I don't like her very much, and I wasn't friendly on the journey up, but she's a sweet girl Kurt. I was just worried you were going to end up with a broken heart and you'd never see her again. That's all. It wasn't anything personal."

Kurt blinked, his eyes wide. Blood wasn't coming out of his lips at the moment, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Raven could imagine the bullets, lodged in his stomach, waiting in their nest of torn flesh.

His eyes began to droop again, and she shook him. It wasn't enough though: she could tell that he was struggling. Raven wondered what else she could do, what else would keep him awake long enough for Hank to save him.

She looked down at him, and water dripped onto his face. God, was she really crying? She hadn't even felt it. His blood-red eyes stared at hers, set into blue skin, and she remembered when it was blue eyes that had looked up at her, surrounded by crimson skin.

Raven swallowed, and steeled herself.

"You look a lot like your father you know."

His eyes opened wider, shock creeping into the pain.

"He was a member of the Brotherhood," she said, "I fought with him for several years. And the two of you...just...just looking at you, and I don't mean the tail or the fangs, although he had both. I mean...I mean the nose actually."

Kurt was still looking at her. She swallowed, and thought of the man she had given her heart to years ago, who'd given her Kurt before being stolen away.

"Actually the jaw too," she said, "It might have surprised the people who knew him with the beard, he had one you know, but he had a very slender jaw line. I saw it once, and yours...you have it. I told him it looked a little girlish once, and the beard started growing back the next day."

A gurgle came from Kurt's throat, and she realized he was trying to chuckle.

"Shhh," she said, "Shhhh."

He swallowed, and she saw where a little bit of blood stained his teeth. Had he bit his lip? She prayed he had, because Hank wasn't there yet, and internal bleeding to that extent might be too much for him to handle out in the woods, no matter how much training he'd had.

"You know," she said, "One of the things he told me once, it was a little theory of his actually, was that angels didn't have wings. He thought it was ridiculous. He actually flipped through the Bible once, and asked me if it said they had wings anywhere, if demons had tails. Asked me to look, as though I could read hundreds of pages in a moment."

She shook her head.

"What he said we did hear though," she said, "was that...was that people were always afraid when they saw angels. Most of the time, the first thing the angels had to say was 'Do not be afraid.' And he thought...maybe angels weren't beautiful the way everyone thought they were. Maybe they were just...maybe God made them beautiful in a different way, and humans just misunderstood, like they misunderstood everything."

Raven tilted her head forward so she could press it against Kurt's. He was burning up.

"Maybe angels looked like he did, all the colors of the rainbow," she whispered, "Maybe they didn't fly, or we would see them. Maybe they just appeared and reappeared, and humans had gotten mixed up. A lot of his theory relied on a mix-up actually."

She closed her eyes, the tears flowing faster at the memory. Azazel had told her his idea almost shyly, like she might laugh at him for it. When she hadn't, when she'd drawn closer instead, he looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before.

Raven opened her eyes, and saw that Kurt's were still open, even though the blood truly was seeping between his fangs. Her breath caught, stuttering her next words. She bowed her head, holding him as close as she possibly could.

"But when I think of him, and I look at you, I think he might have been right," she whispered.

Although Kurt's face was already slippery with tears of pain, she saw a fresh wave. The blood was all over her hands now, and her breath was sticky. Her tongue was thick and uncomfortable, and every breath was a battle.

But there were still things that needed to be said.

"I need you to know that, if you see him before I do...he's going to love you so much," Raven choked, "He'd love everything about you, from the way you smile, but you're not sure if you should, to all the tattoos you have. He'd love the way you keep staring at your fingers in surprise when you count up to three, even though you only have three fingers, because it's a joke you get and you don't care if no one else laughs, just like having a tattoo for every sin. He'd have said you're probably rounding down and laughed."

Memories and regrets and the things not done and said began forming a torrent of words. It was like she was the one bleeding now, and no hand was there to grasp the wound, no one to sew it up.

"He'd love that you're Catholic, the way you believe, and I mean really believe," said Raven, "Because God knew that he never stopped, even though other people expected it."

Kurt was looking at her now as though he'd never seen her before, like she was something he'd conjured up out of the mist. The trees and bushes snapped and fluttered, and Raven turned to see Hank charging into the clearing.

He slid down into the grass next to them, rapidly digging out medical instruments from a tool bag at his belt. Raven turned back to Kurt, at the dullness coming into his eyes. Her hands gripped his tighter, slipping in the blood that covered all of their fingers.

"And he was beautiful Kurt, so goddamn beautiful," she said, "Just like you are."


	32. Chapter 32

The warmth from Moira's hair and skin felt fainter by the second. Charles breathed in, letting his mind flow through the woods. When he was a child, this had been a nightly occurrence. It had only been to the rest of the house, but he'd heard their thoughts, the ones his stepfather had about his mother, his maids, his lovers. He'd heard the college ambitions of the boy who worked on the car with his father, the complaints of the cook. He'd heard them all, but been unable to keep them out.

Now, it was his control that was hobbling him. He hadn't been enough to defeat Nur, that was true enough. However, he could still remember slamming Essex through the fortress of his mind in protection of the woman in his arms and the babe inside her.

If he'd had the strength to do that for two of the people he cared about, he could do much more for a school filled with them. Perhaps relying on Cerebro had been a mistake, but, oh, how much easier this would be if he still had Hank's invention.

As his mind moved through the woods, he could sense others, flickering in panic or pain. Essex and Vic's consciousnesses still tugged on his mind, and he hobbled them where he could. One mind, however, felt like a weight dropped in the middle of a consciousness. He touched Kayla's mind, and felt the walls there.

It was like it was surrounded by concrete, the same kind of resistance he'd met when he tried to free her with Emma's assistance. However, at the moment, most of his concentration was on the young woman running through the woods, a prisoner in her own body.

He shoved his way in. It was like thousands of needles were pricking at his mind, tearing into his flesh. It wasn't the pure pain of Jean's fire but, rather, something sporadic and jumpy. The chemicals that were doing this to her had well and truly dragged her under the surface.

However, he could feel something faint and crying. He hadn't been mistaken, she was still there. He pulled and clawed at the mists, each step like walking in a swamp. Something gummy was clinging to him, trying to, he realized suddenly, pull him under too.

He brushed it away, but it had raised a new, worrying thought. Whatever this was, it felt alive, almost as though it was reacting to his presence. Charles breathed in, trying to swipe away the blockades. His hand encountered something strong, almost like ivy. Concentrating, he tangled his fingers into it and, throwing his weight behind the motion, pulled.

It came off in his hand. He stumbled and fell. The gumminess swelled, and he just barely managed to get back to his feet.

"Who are you?"

The voice came, almost as though someone was calling through glass. He turned and saw the woman from Emma's memories. She looked haggard, even in her own mind, her eyes rimmed with red and her lips cracked.

"My name is Professor Charles Xavier," Charles said carefully, "I'm a teacher at Westchester."

"You're Xavier," said Kayla.

"You know me?"

"I know of you," Kayla said, "Essex told me."

She swallowed, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

"I hit my sister," she said, "Is she-?"

"Emma is shaken, but otherwise fine," said Charles, "She knows it wasn't your fault."

"And the boy?" Kayla asked, "The boy I shot? The woman I attacked?"

"You shot...?" asked Charles.

She looked down at the ground, her hand clutching her face. Charles walked forward slightly, but she pulled away.

"Can you...can you help me?" she asked.

"I...I honestly don't know," said Charles, "Not without time."

"You don't have time," Kayla said, "Essex is coming. He wants my daughter and he wants your son!"

"How does he know about Kevin?" asked Charles.

"Who?"

Kayla shook her head, her hand moving enough so Charles could see her confusion. A sinking feeling started in the pit of his stomach.

"My unborn son," he said.

"Yes," she said, "He's coming, and I know he lured my daughter away from the school-"

"Her father is with her," Charles said, trying not to think of the life that not only had an identity, it had a gender, "He has her, and he's coming back."

"Logan?" asked Kayla, "They wouldn't tell me. Vic just laughed when I asked Essex about him and I couldn't find his files."

"He is alive," said Charles, "What files?"

Kayla clutched her face again, the tears flowing over her eyes and onto her hands. In another time, in another circumstance, he wished she could just cry. He wished he had the time to help her, to tell her everything about the daughter she hadn't gotten to raise, the sister she had given everything for, and the man she loved.

But, they didn't have time. And as her eyes met his, he realized she knew that too.

"I was with Logan when he was taken," she said, "Vic...found me first. I had just gone out for a moment. By the time Logan came out, I thought I was dying. How can someone lose that much blood, see that much of them taken out, and live?"

He saw her memory a night filled with blood and pain. Charles could see her eyesight blinking out as Logan was dragged away, felt her bracing herself for death, praying that she'd at least see her sister and mother again.

"Death didn't come," Kayla murmured, "I waited for hours and hours, and eventually, I realized I wasn't dying. I was healing."

She walked closer, and the memory dissolved. Her fingers trailed the scars from her forehead down her neck.

"Years ago, Essex gave me an artificial healing factor," she said, "He and Stryker, they said it didn't work. It never seemed to, and Essex said they hadn't been able to cause enough pain to kickstart it. I guess even, I guess even Essex can't provide as much pain as Vic."

Slowly, she let her hand fall by her side.

"I went looking for him," she said, "I attacked convoy after convoy, looking for files, any traces. But I wasn't careful enough and, a few nights ago..."

Her hand went to her throat, and he understood.

"Kayla, what did you find in those files?" he asked.

Her eyes met his, and, suddenly she tensed.

"Someone's coming," she said, "Not here, but...someone's coming."

* * *

Laura felt small in his arms, a feather made of warmth, skin and bones. Logan was aware, as he'd been aware almost every night he'd slept with Kayla by his side, that he could break her if he wanted to, or if he just wasn't careful.

But, as Laura lay, curled with her knees to her chest and her hands over her ears, he knew the chances of him ever harming her didn't exist. She looked so much like her mother that it hurt, something he'd been able to tell even with her eyes and senses deadened.

There was more to her than Kayla though. Blood was drying on her chin has he pulled away from the clearing, staining her teeth and dress. He felt an irrational sense of pride at what she'd done, at both the strength and presence of mind it had taken her to bite the bastard.

Now, his mind was bent toward getting her to safety. Both Essex and Vic were following, he could hear them in the distance. He'd been running amongst the trees for almost ten minutes when he saw the figure approaching from the other side. Logan shifted his daughter in his arms so he could have one arm free. His claws sprang from his skin, ready to meet whoever was coming for her.

Then he saw her, sweat and flecks of dried blood on her face, her hair pulled back into a ponytail now coming loose. Logan felt his claws slide back into his hands, wondering if he was imagining things. Laura turned in his arms, opening her eyes slightly but keeping her hands clapped over her ears as she stared.

Her mother stared back, almost as though unsure of what to make of them. Logan swallowed, his thoughts rapidly firing as he realized that, no, if he was going to imagine Kayla, he wouldn't imagine her like this. She would be dressed like she had the day he'd first seen her eyes ignite, not to fight a conflict she hated, or do things she despised.

It only made the confusion worse, because she couldn't be there. He'd watched her bleed out in front of a cabin where he'd just convinced her to live again. He'd lost her, and then lost himself for months upon months.

But, all of that seemed to seep out of his mind, because the how or why didn't really seem to matter.

"Kayla?" he whispered.

The same blankness that had infuriated him in Laura's eyes stared back.

 _Logan, trust me, you must move, and you must move now!_

He snarled, still looking at the woman in front of him.

 _Chuck, something's wrong with her,_ said Logan, _And I'm not-_

 _I understand that you're conflicted, I truly do, but Essex is right behind you, along with your brother,_ Charles said, _I can only hold their minds in check for a few more minutes, and I can only hobble your brother's mutation for so long. If I'm to have strength for what I need to do-_

 _Right,_ Logan snapped.

He moved forward, grabbing Kayla's arm when he did so. She jerked out of his grasp, taking a step back.

"Kayla," he said, "Kayla, darlin, ya gotta come with me."

He moved closer again, and he saw her hand go to a knife in her belt.

 _What's goin on?_ demanded Logan.

 _This isn't what you want to hear, but something is wrong with her mind,_ Charles said, _Essex has drugged her. She doesn't have a kill command for you, so she doesn't know what to do._ _She's not even breathing of her own volition. The collar's controlling her-_

 _Then I'll take it off!_ Logan snapped.

 _No!_ cried Charles, _Logan, we don't know how this works, we don't know the fail safes Essex put in there or what exactly the serum does! It could kill her!_

Logan growled in frustration. Laura was looking up at him, her eyes alert and confused. Her hands were still placed tightly over her ears, and he wondered how much, if any, of the conversation she'd overheard between him and her mother.

 _Logan, they're nearly on you,_ Charles said, _Go now!_

 _I can't just leave her here-_

 _Think of your daughter!_

His eyes trailed from Kayla's face to Laura's form. She was waiting patiently as blood dried on her lips.

 _I am, and she needs her goddamn mother!_ Logan snarled.

He reached out and grabbed Kayla's arm again. He was ready for the knife, but not for the pure ferocity with which it sawed through his flesh. His fingertips felt numb from the nerve loss, but he could keep his grip.

Logan turned, gritting his teeth against the pain, and pulled. She was digging her feet into the ground, hacking at his arm as she tried to stay where she was. Every inch of ground gained was a battle. Laura's lightness was gone, replaced with a dull weight as he struggled against her mother.

 _This...this isn't what you want to hear,_ Charles murmured, _But she is slowing you down Logan._

 _I won't leave her!_

 _If you want a chance of getting out of here before Essex and your brother arrive, then yes, you have to!_ Charles said, _If Essex gets too close to the school, he will lose too many men to pursue this,_ _but he will take you and Laura if he has the chance!_

 _No!_

 _Logan, please. I can't do two things at once. I wouldn't advocate this if-_

 _It's goddamn easy for ya to say, isn't it?_ Logan snarled, _Your wife and kids all wrapped up safe in your damn mansion! She was dead! I'm not gonna lose her again just because you say so!_

* * *

"He's not listening to me!" Charles said, "I can feel them coming dammit!"

Kayla's hand touched his shoulder as she leaned over and peered out through eyes barely her own.

"That's her, isn't it?" she asked softly, "My daughter. The child Essex made."

He followed her gaze to the young girl in Logan's arms.

"He laughed when he told me," she said, "He said, 'Just in case you might like to know.' Bastard."

"Emma named her Laura," said Charles.

She looked at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Swallowing hard, she looked back at the image in front of her, of Logan trying to take her with him.

"Let me talk to him," Kayla said.

"I don't know if I have the power for that," Charles said, uncertain, "And-"

"Please," said Kayla, "Please just try. He'll listen to me."

* * *

 _Logan._

The voice drew him up short, sliding over his ears like a hand over his shoulder. He stopped moving, stopped feeling the pain in his arm.

 _Kayla,_ he whispered.

He looked around, but she was still sawing at his arm. Her lips were unmoving as her voice washed inside his head, still that same, gentle caress.

 _Logan, baby, leave me,_ she said.

 _No!_

 _Please,_ she whispered, _Baby,_ _I'll be okay. I can take it. You know I'm strong enough._

Her arm was flailing, jerking in his. His fingernails dug into her arm, refusing to let go.

 _You shouldn't have to be!_ Logan shouted, _You're right here! I can do this! I can't let anything happen to you! Not again!_

 _You can and you will!_ she shouted back, _I didn't come all this way to have you collared like some animal, to have that happen to our daughter! I won't allow it! I won't let him have you!_

Blindingly hot tears of fury and pain built in his eyes. The noise was escalating in the woods now, and Laura was pulling on his arm, confused. He growled, a low, frustrated sound in the back of his throat.

 _But he has you!_

He heard her laugh in his mind, soft and sweet.

 _No, no he doesn't,_ Kayla said, _You have me. And you will always have me, all of me, whether I'm in your arms or miles away. I will always, always be yours._

Her voice caught in his mind, trembling over the words.

 _And...keep our daughter safe,_ Kayla murmured, _She's everything I was too frightened to dream of after Stryker took us...I know that...I love her already. So you...you take care of her, her and my sister, or I'll be very, very angry. You know you're no match for me when I'm angry._

The noises were getting louder now.

 _Please Logan._

A strangled cry left his lips. He wanted nothing more to fight whatever was doing this to her, to kill every man who came close. If they found a way to kill him, if they captured him again, it wouldn't matter, because she would be free.

But Laura was in his arms, and Kayla's voice in his head. And he could never deny her anything.

His fingertips, bloody and ruined, released her hand. She jerked away immediately, and he took a shattered breath. Then, wrapping both of his arms, the ruined one and the whole one, around Laura, he ran toward the school.

 _I'll come back for you,_ he said, _I swear to God, I swear!_

Her reply didn't come and, for a moment, he thought whatever miracle had allowed them to speak was gone. Then, her voice drifted back into his head, and he could almost see the smile she had given him the last night they'd spent together, her face smudged behind a veil of tears.

 _Call my name, and I'll hear._

* * *

Kayla's tears fell freely as she watched Logan run, Laura clenched tightly in his arms. Charles turned and put a hand on her shoulder, desperately wanting to tell her he could help her, but he knew just how little time they had. She had reached her crossroads, and she had chosen her daughter and the man she loved.

"Please, take care of them," she said, "And...please."

"I will," said Charles, "And we will come for you. I promise."

Kayla looked down, breathing a deep, steadying breath.

"I meant what I said to Logan. I'll make it," she said, "I will, because there isn't an alternative."

He gathered her hands in his, squeezing them tightly.

"You are one of the bravest people I've ever met," he said, "What you're doing-"

"Is nothing you wouldn't do for your family," said Kayla, "I can feel that from you."

He nodded briefly and, for a moment, he felt Moira's hair against his face. Then, he felt Essex and Vic's minds approach, and he knew he had to leave or risk detection. He couldn't fight a war on three fronts. Not after everything else that night.

"Kayla, I need you to show me what you found," he said, "And then...then I need to leave."

Kayla nodded, wriggling her hands out of his grasp, and placing them on either side of his head. Charles saw a flash of light, of hundreds of pages of documents burning into his mind. He saw pictures he could barely process, information that would need to be sifted through later.

The images stopped, and he took a gasping breath. Only seconds remained, but he needed to tell her something else.

"Emma told me to tell you, if I saw you, that the Trickster doesn't win this time," said Charles, "She said you would understand."

A spark ignited in Kayla's eyes, flowing through her like a forest fire. She turned away, looking again through eyes that were barely hers.

"Tell her he never really won in the first place," said Kayla through gritted teeth, "That the Moon never really let her have him."

Her head tilted up.

"And I refuse to remain in the Spirit world."

He nodded, slightly confused, but the meaning plain enough. Charles felt Essex's mind approach.

"I have to go," he said.

"I know," said Kayla, "Look after my family."

His hands curled together. Moira's warmth was a tangible presence on his skin, and he could feel her start to stir, her hand shifting near her stomach, where their son lay. Floors above, their other son was in math class.

Essex would not touch them. He wouldn't touch any of his students.

"Like they were my own," Charles promised.

She looked at him, and smiled.

"Now I know why he's afraid of you," she murmured.

Kayla turned away from him one last time and, through her eyes, he saw Essex approach, followed by Vic. Charles opened his eyes, and he was back in the school, Moira blinking, her breath warming his chest.


	33. Chapter 33

Erik dropped to the ground as the gunshots started. More goddamn plastic. Peter made a noise that sounded like an annoyed groan, but his face pinched when he saw just how many of them had appeared.

"Shit man," Peter said.

"Aptly put," grunted Erik.

He propped Peter against a tree, searching for some kind of metal in the area. There were little pieces, such as watches and other personal affects. For the most part, they had foregone metal, opting instead for less conventional weapons.

"Stay here," Erik said.

"Look, don't," said Peter, "I know I'm useless right now-"

"You're not useless," snapped Erik, "But I'm not bringing your dead body back to the school either, do you hear me? I need you to be my eyes on this one."

"Meaning?" asked Peter.

His voice was suspicious, and Erik understood. Peter had spent most of his life being told to stay behind, that he wasn't good enough. The man who raised him hadn't wanted him. His mother hadn't told him the truth. Wherever his actual father was, it was clear he didn't care enough to stay.

Charles had wanted him though. Charles had asked him to be part of the X-men, where who he was would be valued. His gift had allowed him to act as the maverick of the team. He'd had an important role and now, even injured, he refused to be given a child's job.

Erik understood the feeling all too well. After being told by Charles he could really be someone, could aspire to higher, taking a secondary position had been difficult for him. Only with his senses numbed by grief and anger over his family's death had he accepted a position as a subordinate.

"I can't watch all sides," Erik said, "I need you to make sure they're not trying to loop around and get to the school that way. Just shout when you see someone."

"I'm a burglar alarm?" asked Peter, his mouth dropping open.

"You're a lookout," said Erik, "And, let's be frank, of the two of us, you're the one with the big mouth."

Peter gave him a look through narrowed eyes, but he soon cracked a lopsided grin. It seemed like it took so little to get him to smile.

"Hey, can't argue with the truth," he said.

Erik rolled his eyes and got up. The first man was wearing cuff links. With a twitch of his fingers they flew away into the necks of the two men surrounding him. Charles hadn't wanted killing that day, but right now, it was either them or him and the boy who'd ripped his leg open trying to save him.

Someone shot at him, and he ducked behind a tree. They were wearing a watch. Their wrist broke.

"Dude! Left!"

He looked over and saw three men running around him. Erik snarled and searched for any metal. None. However, a few feet away, someone was wearing boots with metal aglets. He cracked his neck and the man tripped, his boots first dragging him a few feet, and then the metal disconnecting completely.

After that, it was a simple matter to take the three men down. But, if he didn't want to have to explain a large body count to Charles, then he'd have to search for another way, and that meant bigger pieces of metal.

Erik reached out, feeling his way for his element. Perhaps someone had forgotten to take out a large collection of change for toll roads? To his surprise, he felt a large chunk of it moving toward him. He frowned slightly, but when he heard a series of screams, he sighed and opened his eyes.

Logan was barreling toward him, a small child in one of his arms. The other arm was soaked in blood, claws out. He stabbed one of the nearby men in the throat before slowing down, panting heavily.

Erik wanted to tell him Charles wouldn't have approved of what he'd done, that if, as it looked, his kill count was in the double digits, they were in for an earful. However, something stayed his tongue, and when Logan turned to him, he felt a brief flash of deja vu.

Logan's eyes contained Hell in them, and an anger that burned no less brightly for the utter despair it was wrapped in. For the first time since Erik had realized just what he stood to lose in Cairo, a pit of dread opened up in him.

"Is the child alive?" he asked.

Logan closed his eyes for a minute, his teeth gritted together. Laura moved in his arms then, her hands fisting in his shirt. She turned her bloodstained face to look at him. Erik expected her expression to be horrified. If he'd carried Nina through that bloodshed, he'd known his daughter would have cried and clung to him.

Instead, Laura was looking at Erik as though, while glad he was there, he wasn't actually real. Logan let his claws sink back in as he looked to the side, where Peter was slowly pulling himself up to look at the two of them.

"Dude," Peter said.

Logan strode over to him and, gently, put Laura down next to him. She stared up at Logan, her eyes wide.

"Stay here," he said.

"Oh, so now I'm an alarm and a baby sitter?" Peter demanded.

He looked over at Laura, seemingly not fazed by the blood on her face.

"No offense shortstuff," he said.

"Okay," Laura said.

Logan strode back to where Erik was standing. The claws slid out of both his hands as he stared into the woods.

"What did you find back there?" asked Erik.

"We've got about sixty guys comin this way," Logan said brusquely, "They're tryin ta converge here, Essex is goin around the other way, but they'dve overtaken us if I'd gone too much further. Gotta hold somewhere."

His hands clenched. Erik vaguely remembered his initial warning about the kill count. However, looking at Logan, Erik could see that, while Laura was still alive, something precious had been lost when he'd gone to rescue his daughter. Something had happened to make Logan want to scream at the sky, to lose himself in the suffering of others.

It was a feeling Erik understood, and one he felt no desire to stop.

* * *

Charles took a shuddering breath, clutching Moira closer. She was fully awake now, turning slowly in his arms. Her hands had crept up to either side of his face, wiping away what he realized were tears and blood.

He hadn't even realized his nose had started to bleed.

"I'm alright," he said, "I'm alright."

He swallowed, using the wall to prop himself up more. He was weak, much weaker than he thought he'd be. Moira grabbed the edge of her sleeve, wiping away the blood from his face. It felt soothing, but the very fact that it was there boded ill.

"Emma, are communications still up?" he asked.

Emma gave him a look for a moment more, than picked up a set of headphones. She listened for a minute, then nodded.

"My sister only shot the control board," she said, "Not the radio."

"Ask where everyone is," Charles said.

Emma readjusted the headphones, and Moira pushed herself up further.

"Charles, what's going on?" she asked.

"I...so many things," said Charles, "I feel like I've run a marathon honestly."

He managed to smile, his heart beating wildly in his ears. His efforts in Kayla's mind had left him feeling damaged, as had all the work he'd done without Cerebro. Charles took another calming breath, trying to marshal his thoughts together.

"Beast...Hank, yeah, Hank says he's coming in soon," Emma said, "He's with Nightcralwer and Mystique? He said Nightcrawler's bleeding out, and that he needs to get here to remove the bullets right now."

"What?" asked Charles.

Emma gave him a level look, and his heart stuttered. His nephew, Raven's son. Moira's grip on his face tightened, and Charels realized what Kayla had meant when she asked after the boy she had shot. She was afraid she'd killed him. She might have.

"Magneto was bringing Quicksilver back but-" Emma began.

She paused, listening. Slowly, her teeth began to suck in her bottom lip.

"He's with Laura and Logan, but a lot of people came up quickly," she said, "There's one of them who's in bad shape leading the charge, but she can't see what it is he's doing."

"What?" asked Charles.

Emma gave him that same blank look, edged with something like panic. He swallowed. That couldn't be possible. Hank's proximity alerts would've revealed them before they got that close and, even if he was trying to save Kurt's life, it was something he would have noticed.

 _I suppose that, normally, yes. But Chris is here._

Charles started at the sound of Essex's voice.

 _What did you-?_

 _Oh, dear Professor, it's been fairly obvious that you've set up traps around your playschool,_ Essex said, _and yes, they were too extensive for me to disable entirely. Shut down one part of the system and it sets off little alerts. Sometimes, I want to kill McCoy he's so clever. Other times, I want to try and teach him to see what he'd be like if you hadn't infected him with your insidious ideas about equality._

Laughter followed the statement, but it sounded more like a snicker.

 _That being said, a weakening of power?_ said Essex, _Or a swap? No, that wouldn't be detected. I just had Chris switch it so that it read as wildlife. Very difficult even if your mutation manipulates electricity, but Chris needs his feeding tube to live, and I left it behind, so he's very motivated to get this done quickly. McCoy might as well know now though..._

"Professor," Emma said.

She swallowed, her hands clenching around the headphones.

"Beast says there's thirteen new proximity alerts coming in, and they're all within the eleven mile mark," Emma said.

 _Have fun!_

* * *

Scott punched a soldier in the face, sending them both flying. They landed right next to each other, and Scott turned the dial on his goggles. The man went flying through the air. He barely had time to catch his breath before he spotted another soldier.

Even before he reached for his goggles, Jean sent him flying. Scott managed a small smile at her, one which she tentatively returned. Scott wiped the back of his face with his hand, pushing away the sweat collecting there.

He touched his earpiece, his breath still coming in pants.

"This is Cyclops," he said, "I think we have this sector cleared. Just wanna get confirmation."

Static reached his ears, and then he heard low breathing. He frowned, feeling uneasy.

"Hello?" he asked.

"It's Emma," the voice on the other end said, "Scott, I think, look the Professor said you need to get back right now. You need to regroup with Magneto and Logan right now."

"Hey, calm down," said Scott, "What's happened to Moira? Why do we need to move?"

The sound of cracking branches shuddered through the air, and he put his hand to the dial on his goggles. However, when he turned, he saw Storm walking toward him, her face covered in sweat.

"Hey," she said.

Her eyes flickered over to Jean.

"Your radio out too?" she asked.

"I just got it back," said Scott, "Emma said we need to get back to the school."

"Why's she on the comms?" asked Jean.

"It doesn't matter!" Emma snapped, "Get back right now! He said you need to get back right now!"

Scott winced from the sudden increase in volume. As he looked around, he could tell by the startled expressions on Jean and Storm's faces that they'd heard it too.

"Okay, we're coming," he said.

Storm gave a sharp nod and took off. Scott reached out his hand, and Jean slipped hers into his, allowing the two of them to run together. Jean's times were just a little bit behind him and Storm's, and they needed to be able to stay together.

It had nothing to do with the feeling of her fingers in his. He'd already made his decision, known the things that it would and wouldn't be a good idea for him to do. Scott knew the difference between what he wanted to do, and what he needed to do. Right now, the main thing for him to focus on was running to the defense of the school.

When the first explosion went off, it knocked him off his feet and Jean's hand out of his. Dirt scratched at his face, his chest, shoving its way into his mouth. The world was disoriented, and he heard a strange ringing in his ears. He coughed, choking, as he looked up and saw Storm look behind him.

The wind picked up, and he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered, trying to make sense of a world that seemed increasingly hazy. The ringing in his ears made him want to vomit, but he couldn't.

A few feet away from him, Jean was getting up, her red hair tangled in her collar as she looked behind them. He blinked once at her, and then turned his attention to the woods, and the four trucks that were driving toward them.


	34. Chapter 34

Kurt's blood was on Hank's hands and his face. It was caked under his fingernails and in the crevices of his fingers. It was a stink that filled his nostrils to the point of saturation, almost to where he couldn't breathe anymore.

He'd gotten the bleeding to stop, but it was a temporary stop. Kurt was still awake in his arms, Raven hovering close by. The boy's eyes were fixed on her, his lips and tongue obviously trying to form words, but unable to, stopped by the blood he had to cough out every few minutes.

Hank had given him as much morphine as he could, but he knew it was only dimming the sharpest edges of the pain. The bullets needed to come out, and he'd only been able to get three out. The fourth one was deeply imbedded, and removing it without additional material would likely kill him.

Together, they entered through the school's back way, stumbling toward his lab. He laid Kurt out on the table, grabbing the bottle of hand cleaner he'd kept in his belt for emergencies. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raven sit next to Kurt, take his blood-soaked hand in hers.

"Do you know what you looked like when you were little?" she asked, "Even at a few days old, you would do this thing with your tail, where it would wrap around my wrist. You never wanted anything when you did it, but you would, you would giggle, almost like you were showing off."

Kurt's eyes were wide and, deep inside him, Hank realized he was even younger than he'd been when he went on his first mission. But he also realized Kurt's eyes weren't just wide from what Raven was telling him. Beneath his sweat-soaked bangs, Hank could tell he was afraid.

Hank's hands shook on the edge of the counter. He closed his eyes. When he had first told his father he wanted to train as a doctor, he'd told him to stick to science. He was too shaky around blood, too timid to go into medicine, his father said.

And, for a while, he'd believed it. Then, with the CIA's initial help, he'd started to train as a doctor. All too soon, his talents had been needed with the X-men, stitching wounds, fetching ice packs and making sure nothing got infected.

The first time he'd dealt with a serious wound had been Alex. He'd suffered a gunshot to his ribs and, while not necessarily fatal, it wasn't an injury they could go to the hospital with without answering several questions.

His hands had shaken then too as he'd fetched the necessary materials. It had been Charles who was by Alex's side, telling him things would be fine, that Hank knew what he was doing. All Hank had wanted to do was hide.

And yet, when he picked up the scalpel, he'd felt a cold calm wash over him. In the back of his mind, he'd remembered to be frightened. But fear was, in the end, a luxury he couldn't afford: not when he held lives his hands.

So when he pulled out the anesthetic and other instruments, the calm crept back, starting in his fingertips. Upon turning, he saw Raven was stroking Kurt's hand, her words soft. They washed over him. He could process this later, when life wasn't quite so dire.

Without a word, he slipped the needle into Kurt's other hand, and let the anesthetic flow. If Kurt had gone under in the woods, without the proper supervision, he could've died. Now, they couldn't afford to have him awake: he'd likely thrash too much.

Hank attached the bag to a nearby IV stand and walked back to his tools.

"Raven," he said quietly but firmly, "Get a blood transfusion going. I still have some of Peter's left over from Laura's surgery. I think you know how to do this."

"Hank-" she began.

"He's about to go out," said Hank brusquely, "Help me save his life or stop taking up space."

It was, perhaps, cruel. However, he'd learned fairly early on that bedside manner meant nothing when it came to the operating table. He picked up the scalpel, taking a deep breath. All that mattered at the moment was whether or not he could get Kurt to the point where he could open his eyes again.

There was still so much he knew Raven hadn't told him.

* * *

"Hank's operating right now, and Storm's telling me they're pinned down," said Emma, her words coming thick and fast, "She has Jean and Scott with her, but she said they're disoriented. I tried to get Magneto and Logan to go over, but they've still got about forty soldiers to take care of before they can get to a place where they can help."

The words filtered into his mind like needles through a sieve. Charles swallowed, wishing Cerebro was working. If it had been, he would've noticed what was happening sooner. He'd be able to go out, his mind shutting down the people trying to do them harm. Instead, he was on the floor of the control room, blood drying on his lips and tear tracks sticking to his cheeks.

Something on the console blinked, and Emma reached over, tapping the light.

"I...I'm not sure, it's kind of broken," she said, "But I think some of the traps went off at the nine mile mark."

He closed his eyes, gently probing with his mind at the grounds. It wasn't as widespread of an effect as it had been when he'd searched for Kayla, but he could feel other minds closing in.

His hands fisted in the cloth of Moira's blouse and he gritted his teeth. He'd sworn to himself that Essex wouldn't come to the school and, now, it appeared they were being hemmed in. In his arms rested part of his future. The other was upstairs studying with his friends. Bits and pieces of his hopes and dreams were scattered throughout the grounds, screaming for help that wouldn't arrive.

He looked up at Emma, saw the fear in her young eyes, saw the pain.

 _"As frightening as it may be, their pain will make you stronger."_

The words echoed at him throughout the years, an older, sadder face, telling him the words as if they were a gospel learned from devastation.

 _"If you allow yourself to feel it, embrace it, it will make you more powerful than you ever imagined."_

"I need to go Charles. I should help her with-" Moira began.

"No," said Charles, "No, I...I need you to stay here. I need..."

He swallowed and cupped her face with his hands. He knew what he needed to do now, and it frightened him more than he could say. But he'd sworn to bear this, to take on a burden others couldn't. Kayla had sacrificed her own sense of self for her family, had said Charles would do the same if he had the chance.

This was paltry compared to that, really.

"When I spoke to Kayla, she gave me certain documents she'd discovered," said Charles, "I need to give them to you. You might not remember them all at first, but you will as the days come. I need you to figure out what they mean."

"Of course," she said, "But-"

"Moira, please, just a minute," he said, "Just a minute."

He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, memorizing the feel of her skin.

"Once this is over, I need you to go into the left drawer of my desk, not my office desk, but my room, and get something there," said Charles, "You'll know when you see it."

"Charles, what are you doing?" Moira asked, "You're not-"

He pulled her face closer to his, capturing her lips in a crushing kiss. His lips smashed against her teeth. As her mouth opened in surprise he deepened it. He remembered their chaste kiss on the lawn, the one that had left him bereft for more than twenty years. He remembered the ones they'd had since then, the one that had led to his room and the night where the child inside her had been conceived.

His hands pulled back, running through her soft hair. Charles held onto the sensations around him as long as he dared, and then closed his eyes again. Her lips were the most solid thing, alongside the feel of her body resting near his heart.

Once again though, solid, real things had to pass away. His mind flowed out, exploring, probing. Yes, there were minds of soldiers, their thoughts whispered to him. But there were more minds, starting with Moira's. He passed her the documents Kayla had given him, leaving her mind with an assurance of love. He tapped at Emma's mind, all worry and so very many walls.

He heard Raven and Hank down the hall, rapidly trying to save Kurt. Even Kurt's mind left an impression, his last whispered thought to God for mercy and acceptance, as well as a fervent thank you, before he passed from consciousness.

He concentrated, and felt Peter and Laura. Peter's arms were around the girl, trying to shield her from any stray bullets that might come their way. Logan's mind was a bundle of rage and pain surrounding the desire to hold the woman he'd thought gone. In many ways, Erik's mind was the same, only the pain was deeper. The woman he'd loved, after all, really was beyond his reach.

Further out, Storm was praying to anyone that could hear for herself and her friends. Her arms were showing several cuts, and Scott, one hand on a tree for balance, swayed as turned the dial on his goggles. Across from him Jean was throwing soldiers through the air, flames already dancing on her fingertips.

He felt all of their hopes and dreams, all of the pain they had gone through, the pain they were feeling now. Moira's mind was full of her children, born and unborn, and fear for what the man she loved was doing. He heard Raven's screaming for the son she was losing but never truly told how much she loved him, Erik, for having already lost his child, though Peter still begged for the words to tell him.

Logan and Emma grieved over the woman that tied them together. He could even hear Laura's pain as she realized that the woman who looked so much like her had been her mother. Scott's pain tied into Jean and Ororo's, one giant knot pressing into Charles's. Their fear that this was the end, his that he'd failed the promise he'd made to Logan, failed the family and haven he'd tried to create.

Charles corralled the emotions, not the memories. He gathered the feelings, the bone deep aches and screams that no volume could ever truly match. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he searched.

Essex was walking, Kayla and Vic by his side. He was smiling, but staggered when Charles sank his hooks into his mind.

 _You've felt my pain_ , Charles snarled, _Now feel **THEIRS!**_

He unleashed the emotions, letting them flow through him. The resulting scream made him stagger, but the impact had ripples that were much bigger than anything that could be confined to two men, even two telepaths.

The pain, confusion and fear of the soldiers scattered across the grounds. He funneled the emotions of the students, the men and women they were seeking to torment. Charles saw them fall to their knees, scratching at faces and chins.

 ** _GET OUT!_** he screamed.

It left him feeling weaker than he'd ever felt before, but physical needs seemed so distant now. He felt them flee, their panic a bitter, confusing balm. His hooks were still in Essex's mind, but he was thrashing. The world dimmed around him as some of the soldiers pulled Essex away as they attempted to flee. Essex was fighting them, insisting they needed to press on.

What he needed was a way to get him to stop fighting. Charles reached out to Logan once again, pulling in the minute he realized he had to leave Kayla behind. A pounding started on his chest, coupled with the dimming in his eyes. He ignored it and reached out to Erik, the moment he saw that he had lost his wife and daughter in the same day. Charles grasped the moment in Raven's mind when Kurt had gone under and she realized she might never see her son's eyes open again.

As he searched, he felt a pain that, in so many ways, matched theirs. When he touched it, and Moira's mind pushed back he stared out through her eyes, frightened. He saw her vision, blurred by tears, her hands clasped as she gave him chest compressions. She was calling him, her voice a plea, and he yearned to comply.

But he needed her alive more than he needed her with him.

So he took her pain, and theirs, and swallowed it with the pain of realizing he wouldn't see his sons grow up. He wouldn't see the baby born, wouldn't be there for Kevin like he'd promised. He scrunched it up as tight as he could, and then slid the emotions into Essex's mind.

The resulting scream knocked him back once again. Vaguely, distantly, he saw Essex go into something like a seizure. His men, taking advantage of the moment, shoved him into the truck and sped away.

The dimness was growing stronger, and the force on his chest fainter.

 _"It's the greatest gift we have, to bear their pain without breaking."_

Moira's voice was in his ears, her breaths in his lungs. He breathed in softly, and felt himself fade.

 _"And it's born from the most human part: hope."_


	35. Chapter 35

Moira's fingers ached as she pounded them into Charles's chest, trying to remain calm enough to keep up a steady pace. Behind her, Emma was still at her position at the control board, but she could feel her eyes on her back.

She'd still been leaning on his chest, her heart pounding in fear over Charles's last words and actions, when she felt his breath stop. His pulse was so weak, and she couldn't see any rise or fall of his chest.

Moira had ripped off his tie and unbuttoned his collar. She'd listened for a heartbeat and felt nothing. It had only been two or three seconds ago, but it felt as though it had been a lifetime since she'd last felt him breathe.

Her throat tightened, but she took a deep breath. Moira pinched his nose and blew air into his lungs. The rise and fall of his chest didn't resume, and she began he chest compressions again, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Don't do this," Moira said, her words thick and choked, "Don't leave me again."

Still nothing. She applied more pressure with every motion, a sense of anger and desperation bleeding into her. A click from behind her told her Emma had put down her headphones, was drawing nearer.

She didn't know if that meant the danger was over, if whatever Charles had done had worked. What she did know was that Charles still wasn't awake, still wasn't breathing. She needed him to breathe, she needed his heart to start.

A tickle began in the back of her head. For a moment her heart leaped, thinking it was Charles, trying to tell her something.

 _Moira,_ Emma said, _Let me see what you need._

Her heart sank, but she grabbed Charles's nose and breathed into his mouth again. As she did she forced herself to think, to show Emma the equipment they would need to help start his heart. They needed a defibrillator, and someone who knew how to use it.

Emma took off down the hallway, and Moira began compressions again. Her lips were still aching from his fierce kiss, her hair mussed from the breath that would no longer come from his lips. Kevin was still upstairs, thinking nothing was wrong, and their baby still wasn't born.

They needed him, and so did she. She couldn't have found him only to have lost him so soon.

* * *

Sweat beaded on Hank's forehead as he found the bullet inside Kurt's gut. Luckily, it had missed several vital organs. He'd been concerned it had hit something like his spleen, but no bile had been seeping out. It appeared that it was just causing massive internal bleeding.

While still not good, it was better than what he thought it was. He assessed the area, and then quietly placed his tongs on either side of the bullet. He knew Raven's eyes were on him as he did so. It had been a long time since he'd worked with an audience, but it was just another factor he needed to ignore. Right now, he had to remove the bullet and sew it up as fast as he could. Peter couldn't safely give any more blood, and they were almost out.

Making sure that he had a firm grip on the bullet, Hank began to pull. Kurt's body rebelled, with blood seeping out and flesh sucking back. Raven took in a sharp breath. Hank gritted his teeth and got the bullet out, all but tossing it in the dish next to him.

He dropped the tongs and grabbed his thread and needle. His eyes bent over his work, he began searching out the ripped blood vessels. Hank blinked, grateful for the sensitive sight his mutation had left him with, for senses that could find even the smallest tear.

The doors opened. He was tempted to turn around, but there was no point. If it was a threat, Raven would have to take care of them or he would die. Judging by the fact there was no bullets, and Raven didn't move, he assumed that it wasn't.

So he didn't turn around, even when he felt the tickle in his mind. It was like someone was rummaging around in there, and it was that feeling which made him twitch. Hank almost stabbed his needle into another one of Kurt's undamaged blood vessels.

As if Kurt could afford to lose anymore blood.

 _Goddammit, be careful!_ Hank snarled.

 _I'm sorry,_ said Emma quietly, _You're busy: I understand. Just one minute._

He felt the word "defibrillator" cross his mind, along with a whisper of how to use one. It took everything inside of him not to ask why Emma needed to know where the defibrillator was and how to use one. The knowledge that, with Raven and Kurt here, she'd only been near Moira and Charles, sent up additional red flags.

"Raven, help Emma," he said, "Just with the unpacking. She should be able to get it out quickly enough."

Again, he knew his voice was cold. He couldn't believe Moira had been harmed, not where she was. Charles though, Charles he could believe. And while he wanted nothing more than to help his friend, his mentor, Kurt was still in danger.

Charles wouldn't forgive him if he let his nephew die just to help him.

* * *

Hot tears fell from Moira's cheeks and onto his face. They blurred her vision, making the last images she received of Charles's face a mess of water and pain. Her arms ached and her throat hurt from trying to give him her breath.

But she only stopped when Emma raced in with a cart loaded with equipment. Moira immediately unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers flying.

 _I went into Hank's mind,_ Emma said, _I've got this, or I've got this for the next ten minutes. It's tricky but-_

 _Ten minutes will be enough,_ replied Moira.

Emma sank down next to her, pulling up the paddles. A mechanical whir was reaching Moira's ears, and she pulled her hands back. The teen pressed the paddles to his chest, and Moira saw him jerk. She took his pulse, but nothing had changed.

Looking troubled, Emma pulled away the paddles. Moira resumed CPR, her arms screaming and her throat still raw.

 _"Do you have a minute?_

 _"For a pretty little being with a mutated MCR-1 gene, I have five. I say MCR-1, you would say auburn hair. It's a mutation, it's a very groovy mutation. Mutation, right, took us from single-celled organisms to the dominant form-"_

She pulled her hands away, and Emma applied the paddles again. Again, his body jerked, but he still wasn't breathing.

 _"I'm on a beach in Cuba, with you."_

Her hands were starting to shake, whether from exhaustion, or the fear she felt, she couldn't tell.

 _"What I'm getting at Moira, rather poorly I think, is that I want you to stay. I want to be there for you. And I want to be there for the baby. I want Kevin to remain at the school and grow up there with his new sibling, girl, boy, mutant or not. I want...I want all of that Moira, but only if you want it."_

Her hands pounded into his chest, and she counted, trying to make sure she reached her goal. All the while, she tried to convince herself that it was working. She finished and breathed into his lungs again. His face was tinged with blue, and she knew that, soon, permanent brain damage would set in.

She refused to accept anything worse, though her mind was screaming that she was losing him.

"Moira, I have trouble doing more than sending a thought to you," Emma murmured, "Open your mind, and, call for him. I think I can get it through, and it might help."

The words were jarring, like a slap in the face. It seemed like an eternity since she'd heard any voice out loud but hers in the room. She looked at Emma, who was getting ready to press down the paddles for another try.

"Relax, and let me in," Emma said, moving the paddles toward his chest.

Moira gave her a tight nod and took a deep breath. Icy fingers touched her mind, but she didn't fight them. It was uncomfortable and foreign, but it was like someone had flung open a door deep inside of her.

 _Now._

 _Charles, your children need you!_ she yelled, _I need you! I can't...I can't..._

Her fingers twisted in the cloth of her pants. Tears were running down her face yet again, pained, despairing. So much time had been lost, and they'd only had a few months together. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, and she wanted more.

 _You took twenty years dammit, you made me forget you for twenty years! I want those years back Charles! You owe them to me! You owe them to our children!_

The words were petty and selfish, but they were true. She wanted him by her side for the next twenty years and beyond. She wanted him there when Kevin graduated high school and college, when the child inside her started school. Moira wanted to laugh as they watched them bring home boyfriends or girlfriends, to see their children's children.

There was so much they still needed to do. Kevin had finally found a man he loved who he could call father, and he had only barely whispered his name. Charles needed to see what being a father entailed, the games they would play, the experiences and joys they would share. He needed more memories.

And the child inside her needed some memories, because they had none. They needed to grow up with a good father, a good older brother. She needed to be able to see Charles's face when she handed him their child for the first time, wrinkled and blinking at the world.

Yet, more than all of those wonderful things, more than anything else she had ever wanted, she wanted to grow old with him.

 _I don't want to do another twenty years without you,_ she said, _I love you so much...please-!_

 _Chest compressions!_

Blinking and breathing as deeply as she could, Moira's hands pounded into his chest. She leaned over, one of her hands pinching his nose, pressing her lips to his. She blew air in, feeling his wet skin against hers. It was moist from the tears she'd cried, the ones that wouldn't stay in her eyes.

Suddenly, his body spasmed beneath hers. Moira pulled back as Charles coughed, his eyes open but slightly unfocused. One of his hands reached out, almost blindly, and she grabbed it, squeezing it as tightly as she could.

"Moira?" he murmured.

A strangled sob left her throat as she clutched him to her chest, one of her hands cradling his head. His hands weakly wrapped around her back as she started to rock him back and forth. Her throat was too raw to speak, her eyes too blurred to see, so she shut them.

All she needed was to feel the rise and fall of his chest.

 _Oh my love, I'm so, so sorry._

 _You should be,_ she thought fiercely, _But we can talk about that later. Just...just breathe right now._

She leaned back, kissing his forehead.

 _I can deal with everything else if you can just take another breath,_ she whispered.

 _For you, I can take five._

A smile twisted her lips as Logan and Erik came in, Logan carrying Laura and Erik supporting Peter. She could only imagine what they were seeing, the scene of chaos and confusion, of Emma with a defibrillator and smears of blood on her face.

But, oh God, Charles was alive, and, true to his word, he did take five breaths. And then another. And another.


	36. Chapter 36

From his position in his lab chair, Hank closed his eyes and slid another needle containing serum under his skin. It seemed like it hurt a little more each time he did it, ever since Laura's bones had bent and broken under the pressure of his hands.

However, not doing it was unthinkable, especially now. Claws didn't preform surgery the same way hands did, and he was glad he didn't have fur in the way. He glanced at the clock, and realized that it was only 1 p.m. While he had missed all of his classes, it meant school still wasn't out.

The thought that most of his students had experienced a normal day at school filled him with the closest thing to peace he'd felt in hours. Kurt's blood was still caked in the cracks between his nails and fingers after all.

He withdrew the needle and looked at the little timer on his desk. In a little over half an hour, it would go off, and he'd head back to the hospital wing. Kurt was waiting there to be checked up on and have another transfusion. To his surprise, Hank had learned that Erik had the same blood type as Peter, and he was only too willing to donate blood. At least he was helpful when it came to that.

There was another timer before that, set to go off so he could go and check up on Charles. He closed his eyes tightly for a minute. The idea that his oldest friend's heart had stopped while he was desperately trying to save Kurt's life was a jarring one. It was lucky Moira knew CPR, that Emma had thought to use her gift to figure out how to use the defibrillator. If not, he might have walked out of one operating room only to be met with another life he couldn't save.

The shock it caused was bone deep, but he couldn't dwell on it too much. Charles's timer was going off in twenty minutes, and Kurt's would go off fifteen minutes after that. He was glad that Raven had volunteered to sit up with Kurt, and, to his knowledge, Moira was still with Charles. He was directing some of the clean-up efforts, so he wasn't totally at rest, but he was in bed. That was something.

The door to the lab opened. Logan walked in, cradling Laura in his arms. Emma was hovering nearby, having washed her face free from blood.

"Do you have a minute?" asked Emma.

He smiled at them, but it was a weary expression.

"Of course," he said, "Especially for my new paramedic."

"It was nothing," said Emma, "I just...I just...helped. It was your knowledge I was using."

Hank got up.

"But you knew you needed it, and applied it well," he said, "I think that, if anything, today proved we need an expanded medical team. If you're interested in learning more, just let me know."

Emma flushed and swallowed. He did hope she would consider it though. He'd teach anyone who wanted to know how to avoid what happened that morning. Emma didn't answer him though and merely gestured to Logan.

Logan walked in further and set Laura down on one of the tables. She was frowning, and Hank hoped her bone claws weren't causing her more trouble.

"I wanna know if we can find out what it was that made her run off," grunted Logan, "Essex said it was some kinda trigger scent."

He jerked his head toward Emma.

"From what I've seen and what she's said, you're the science guy around here," he said.

"I said you were the science teacher and a doctor," Emma said briskly, "I did not call you the 'science guy.'"

Hank shrugged because, after everything that had happened that day, being called 'the science guy' was the least of his worries. He pasted on the most genuine smile he could muster and walked up to Laura.

"Hey, I have to draw some blood," he said, "It won't hurt much, but I have to use a needle. Is that okay?"

Laura nodded, not really looking up. Hank sighed and took out a syringe.

"Why do you need her blood?" said Logan.

His tone was accusatory and, for a moment, Hank bristled. However, given the fact that Laura only existed because someone had stolen Logan's blood, he supposed that, while it rankled, he had a right to be wary.

"I need to see if there are any sort of unusual hormones or other indicators," said Hank, "She just came out of whatever happened to her, so they should be present in some degree. Maybe I can find something to counteract what happened."

Logan gave him a short nod, and Hank felt an old, familiar irritation rise up. He'd barely gotten along with Logan when he'd come from the future to help them, only really warming up to the man after he managed to pull Charles out of his world of pain and self-loathing.

This Logan, while struggling, was not that man. Not yet. So, even though Hank knew he was just being protective of his daughter, he still felt some irritation when his eyes narrowed as he drew blood. He tried to make it as short as possible, knowing Laura's fear of needles.

"There, all done," he said.

She looked at him, still frowning, still glum.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Hank asked.

Logan raised his eyebrow. Hank knew it seemed like an obvious question, but he'd also learned that children felt better for being asked sometimes. Laura was also still learning social cues, and being asked was a simple but effective gesture.

"She was my mommy, wasn't she?" asked Laura, "That woman in the woods."

Hank cocked his head, but he saw Logan tense. Emma looked at him questioningly too. While Hank knew that Kayla had broken into the school with a collar clamped around her neck, he hadn't known that Logan and Laura had encountered her.

"Yeah," Logan said, his voice quiet.

Laura rubbed her nose with the palm of her hand.

"Did she smell what I smelt?" she asked, "That was why she didn't...when she looked at me..."

Logan closed his eyes, and Hank saw Emma bite her lip. He swallowed.

"No, but it was something like that," Hank explained, "Did you see that collar around her neck?"

Laura nodded.

"That's doing that," said Hank, "If that wasn't there then-"

"Then she wouldn't have hurt daddy?" Laura asked.

The words brought Hank up short. Laura quickly looked down, picking at her hands.

"Like I did," she murmured.

"Hey, hey," said Logan.

He pulled himself up on the table and sat next to her. Hank watched as he awkwardly put a hand around her shoulders.

"That wasn't you kid," he said, "That was what Essex did ta ya. I know. He did some things ta me too."

He held out his hand and metal claws slid out. Laura inched closer, lightly touching the end of one.

"Is that why they're not bone like mine?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Logan.

The claws slowly slid back into his skin, and Laura removed her hand. She leaned her head into his shoulder, and Hank saw Logan tentatively brush some hair from her face.

"Hey," he said, "If she...if she coulda, she woulda said somethin to ya. Chuck, he helped me talk ta her in our heads. Just for a minute but...she said ya were everything she dreamed of."

Tears spilled from Laura's eyes. She buried her face in Logan's side, and he wrapped both arms around her.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's..." Logan tried.

He gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. Hank knew he was struggling and, for a brief moment, was reminded of the way Raven would look at Kurt when he entered the room. It was as though she didn't know how to talk to him, how to do anything with him.

"Kid, I'm gonna tell ya a story," he said, "It's sad, but it'll make things make sense."

Laura looked up, still close. Hank turned away, trying to give the two of them some privacy, even as Emma moved closer. He busied himself with the syringe and quietly began putting away the blood sample so it could be tested for chemical reactions.

"It's somethin your mom told me. Ya see, the moon, she used ta have a lover," said Logan, "His name was Kuekuatsu, means the wolverine. And they lived in the spirit world together."

Hank froze. While Logan had used his first name when he visited from the future, Hank was also familiar with his other moniker. The idea that, perhaps, he was hearing why Logan had chosen it, chilled him.

"An every night, they would wander the skies together. But, one of the other spirits was jealous. Trickster wanted the Moon for himself, because he couldn't keep his damn distance," said Logan, his voice low "So he told Kuekuatsu the Moon asked for flowers, told him ta come ta our world and pick her wild roses."

"I don't like him," Laura said.

"I don't either," said Logan, "Because, here's where the story gets sad. Kuekuatsu didn't know that once ya leave the spirit world, ya can't go back."

Hank closed his eyes and put away the blood sample.

"And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But... he can't touch her again."

He looked at the small group out of the corner of his eye. Emma was covering her eyes, but Hank could see the glint of tears. Had Kayla told her that story as a child? Was it another blow to her heart that, instead of Kayla telling the story to her daughter, it had to be the man she had left behind?

"But she still hears him," said Logan, "And your mom, she's gonna be thinking about you every minute until we get her back, because I am getting her back."

Laura nodded, boosting herself up so she could kiss his cheek.

"I trust you daddy," she said, "You're good at saving people."

Logan swallowed, and Hank could see his entire form shaking. Yet he didn't pull away from Laura, didn't even look down. Instead, he brushed her hair back delicately, and gave her a lopsided grin.

"I try," he said, "But, ya got one helluva bite on ya too kid. That helps."

Laura giggled slightly. In that moment, Hank realized that, yes, there was a good chance they had been friends in the future. If he could put himself aside to make a child smile, if he could care more about that moment than his own pain, then he was someone he wanted to be friends with.

Emma walked up and put a hand on Laura's shoulder.

"We need to get back upstairs," she said, "I know you haven't eaten and we missed lunch."

"Yeah," said Logan, "Yeah."

Laura slipped down from the table. Emma reached down and took Laura's hand, motioning for Logan to join them. Hank bit his lip, uncertain, and then moved to intercept him. Logan's eyes flared in anger immediately, but Hank didn't back down.

"I need to talk to you for a minute," he said, "Preferably in private."

Despite the mounting anger and irritation in Logan's eyes, Hank remained where he was. By Logan's own admission, he was stronger than he looked.

"We'll wait for you in the hall," said Emma.

"But I wanna-" Laura began.

"He'll be along in a minute, right Dr. McCoy?" asked Emma.

"Two at most," Hank replied.

"See?" asked Emma, "It'll just be a minute Laura."

Laura must have nodded, because he didn't hear any more sounds of protest. Logan's eyes looked past his shoulder until he heard the door shut though.

"Ya better have a damn good reason for this geek-boy," Logan growled.

"I think you need to know that the effect of the collars are, without a doubt, temporary," said Hank, "Probably very temporary."

Logan blinked, and Hank plowed on.

"All of the collar designs we recovered had one thing in common: they were all designed to have reloadable vials of serum," Hank said, "Now, while I don't know what's in that serum, I do know that they wouldn't have put that in there if its effects were permanent."

Again, Logan continued to look at him. Perhaps it was foolish to give him this level of hope, but Hank had been thinking about this since Raven had told him what happened after the surgery was completed. She'd thought she was telling him the details of Kurt's injury, but it had clicked with what he'd seen with the collar's designs.

"Her initial mission was, I think, to get Moira," said Hank, "But, after a while, her goal seemed to be to get away as fast as she could. When she fled, she didn't flee back to the school. No: she went to rejoin the others. I think that's because, after a certain time limit, she has orders to get back to her closest minder or meet them at a rendezvous point."

He breathed in, trying to marshal his thoughts, explain what needed to be done.

"I think she was running out of time when she was fighting them," said Hank, "And Essex is too smart to send her in when she was nearing the end of an hours-long cycle. I think it only lasts an hour, maybe a little longer."

"So...you're tellin me...next time I see her-" Logan began.

"I think you just need to keep her with you for an hour," said Hank, "And then I think it'll wear off. Easier said than done, I know, but, if you can, I think you can bring her home."

Logan stared at him for a moment longer before his eyes closed. His face pulling together tightly, and Hank could see the struggle there, the pain.

Then the timer went off and Hank moved past Logan, putting the timer and the one for Kurt into his pocket. He began gathering his tools, waiting to hear the door open and close as Logan left.

"Kid."

Hank turned over his shoulder to where Logan stood in the doorway, swallowing as he forced his face to relax.

"I...well...thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," Hank said giving a sad smile.

Logan was, after all, a friend. Or would be, in time.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** One more chapter._


	37. Chapter 37

"...and I can go and get her as soon as you're ready. It's no trouble you know."

Raven breathed out, her eyelids opening slowly. With a growing sense of horror, she realized she'd fallen asleep. She cursed herself, and gritted her teeth. While she was close enough to the monitors to hear if something changed, it was still inexcusable.

Slowly, she pushed herself up. When she did, she could see Kurt talking to Hank. Her heart stuttered. He was awake. She knew better than to think that was the final word on the subject, but Kurt was awake.

Both of them turned to her when she moved, and Kurt gave her a weak smile.

"I wanted to wake you when I came in, but Kurt said you needed your rest," said Hank, "It's not surprising, given how dehydrated you are. You should drink some water."

Her throat was dry, but she shook her head. She rather expected that had other causes.

"I was just telling him I could get Amanda when he was ready," said Hank, "I'm not sure if Moira and Charles have told Kevin yet, but Amanda is old enough to know as soon as possible. She won't thank you for keeping this from her you know."

"Just two more hours?" asked Kurt.

"Alright," said Hank, "You're going to need a lot of attention over the next few months, and don't move around too much. That's why you're strapped in."

"He's strapped in?" asked Raven.

"Chest belt, under the blanket," said Hank, "He kept squirming."

Kurt gave Hank a sulky look, but something seemed strained about it.

"And no teleporting for a long time, understand? At least five months."

"Nein, zat ist too much," complained Kurt.

"Listen to him," said Raven, "He's been patching people up longer than you've been alive."

The words stuck in her throat as she said them, and she felt Kurt's eyes fix on her. Hank grinned nervously, then straightened his coat.

"I've got to go run some tests on Laura's blood," he said, "I'll be back in half an hour, okay?"

"Ja," Kurt said.

"Hank," said Raven.

He looked at her, his face open despite his apparent exhaustion. She wanted to tell him to stay, because she didn't know what she was going to tell Kurt. Raven wanted to ask him how he was managing to breeze through everything, as though it was any other day in his classroom.

But her son's blood had bathed her earlier that evening, and she felt so tired of the feeling blossoming in her chest. Besides, there was something she wanted to tell him more.

"Thank you," she said.

He smiled again, this one more genuine and less nervous.

"It's nothing," he said.

"It's not-"

"It's why I'm here," said Hank, "It's who I am at the end of the day, who I've always wanted to be."

"You sound like Charles now," Raven said.

Hank shrugged a shoulder.

"Like I said, I know the kind of person I want to be," he said.

With a final nod, he walked out of the room. A small, truoubled thought whispered that, at least now, Charles had someone to pull him back. Hank, however, did not.

"Mmm, Miss Raven?"

She swallowed and closed her eyes. In her head, Raven counted to five. Then, slowly, she got up and walked closer to Kurt's bedside. He was smiling at her, a dry smile aggravated by the bandages for the numerous tiny scars on his face.

But she knew something was wrong, because it wasn't a real smile. Kurt's smiles were filled with warmth. Even when she'd tried to focus on her son's naivete and his complete lack of survival skills to distance herself, she'd known how his smile would light up his entire face.

This fake smile made her ashamed, because she'd caused it. She breathed in, trying to find the words she needed to explain herself.

"I um, I vanted to say...I mean, I vanted to say, you do not haf to feel sad or embarrassed," Kurt said, "I...I understand."

The words she'd been rallying fled, and she was left with only one.

"What?"

"Dr...Dr. McCoy, he told me zat you saved my life," Kurt said licking his lips, "I vas going to die, but you, you kept me awake for as long as you could, and I am alive. And I vas zinking... und I realized..."

His smile grew broader, but it seemed to be stretching the skin. It looked as though he was about to break, to shatter into a million pieces.

"It's okay, ja?" he said, "If...if all zat vas not true, you vanted to save my life. You said vhat I needed to hear, und I stayed awake, we are all alive now so..."

She stared at him. He sounded like someone who, having crawled in from a storm next to a fire and started to warm themselves, suddenly had a bucket of water doused on it. A lump formed in her throat as Kurt began fiddling with the threads of his blanket.

"So...danke," he finished lamely.

Raven continued to stare. From somewhere deep inside her, her mind realized that, whether or not Kurt meant to, he was giving her an out. It was a chance to take it back with no repercussions, no pain. He'd be upset for a while, having thought he'd found his mother only to have her taken away, but he would move on. He never needed to know all of her faults, all of her sins, chief among them her inability to give up.

She closed her eyes again. Raven bit her lip, and then sat down on the edge of Kurt's bed, facing away from him. Her hands trembled.

"Your father's name was Azazel."

The words ripped through the room like thunder. Raven swallowed, her throat tissue paper catching fire.

"I, um, I know that wasn't the name he was born with. But he wanted it and...he thought it was ironic," she said, "You see, he and I, we were part of something called the Brotherhood of Mutants. Erik led it and we...we did some things..."

"I have heard of ze Brotherhood."

His voice was small, but she couldn't gauge an emotion, and she didn't dare look around.

"We went on a mission together the year you were born," she said, "Everything...everything just went wrong. We'd been tricked, the guns came out and he...he teleported me away, but he wanted to go back and get some of our friends. I told him not to, but he wouldn't leave them. Just who he was."

A warm heaviness began to circle her.

"I waited for him, and I waited, and he didn't come, and I knew he was probably dead," she said, "But I kept waiting. And...when I realized he wasn't coming back-"

She'd died. It was the closest phrase she could think of to describe the feeling in her chest, as though everything was failing. But it was clear she hadn't, because of what she'd discovered two weeks afterwards.

"I didn't know I was pregnant then," she said, "And when I did...well, I didn't know for sure he was dead. The taskforce we were up against, they were capturing a lot of mutants for experiments. Some of them had been locked up for years."

"Like Emma?"

Again, that small question.

"Yes, like that," said Raven, "And I couldn't...I went looking for him. Because I thought that, maybe he was alive out there. Maybe they were all alive. And when the months passed, and you were in my arms, you were so much like him. You needed me, and so did he, and you needed him too, and people were looking for me."

She choked then, but stopping was impossible. Just like in the woods, she felt as though she were bleeding words.

"I left you there, and I always, always meant to come back," she said, "I swear to God I did Kurt. I thought it would only take me a few months longer to find him, and then we could be together, all three of us. But the months turned into years. By the time I knew he was dead, you were six, and I'd just become the highest profile mutant in the whole damn world because I couldn't bring myself to kill the bastard who murdered him."

Raven felt the tear roll down her cheek, trembling like her hands.

"And by the time they stopped looking for me...you were fourteen," she said, "It was too late, you were too old to want me, and I wasn't, I was never the mother you would've wanted. Why would I be? You had a good life, or at least you did before those monsters dragged you into that cage fight-"

"Zat vas vhy you were there."

"I just...I heard they'd gotten a demon from Germany to fight in the ring, and I had to know," said Raven, "But...you couldn't...how could I tell you? Kurt, you're not rough and calculating. You don't have a mean bone in your body. You wouldn't even leave me to fight soldiers by myself in Scotland. You're not like me, and that's a good thing. You didn't need someone like me screwing things up for you-"

A light touch stopped her. Raven felt the air leave her lungs, all the heat in her body build into a thick knot behind her eyes. With all the strength she could muster, she looked down at her hand.

Kurt's tail had wrapped itself around her wrist.

"I vant something this time."

She swallowed, and nearly choked on her tongue. Words seemed to pull themselves together in her mind, but disappeared before they found their way past her lips. Finally, she figured out what to say.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I vant you to...bitte...I...please look."

Once again summoning her strength, she turned. Kurt was looking at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"All my life, I haf wanted to know where I come from," he said, "I have wanted to know that, maybe, somewhere, someone wanted me. That I wasn't abandoned because I was a mutant, that I was...that I was loved."

His tail released her wrist, but he didn't look away.

"For so long, mein mutter was dead in my mind, lost, because I did not know any better," he said.

He reached out, his movement still constrained by the chest belt. She remembered his small hands reaching for her on the night she left him on the circus's doorstep, blindly flailing for her, wondering why she wouldn't take him in her arms.

"And... now...now you are alive again. I haf never..." Kurt said, "I am...I am..."

A sob tore from her lips, and she grasped his hand. She felt the way his thick fingers curled around hers, and she moved to accommodate them. Her other hand reached out and cupped Kurt's face, his skin only a few shades darker than her own, his eyes the color of his father's skin.

He leaned into her touch, his other hand grasping her wrist.

"I am home," he whispered.

She smiled then, the expression pushing and ripping at her face.

"Yes," she said, "Yes you are."

Raven leaned forward, kissing his forehead as tears washed her face because, maybe, in some way, she was too.

* * *

"So what do you want to do with them?" asked Erik.

"When I'm a little stronger, give them false memories and send them on their way," said Charles, "Maybe I can have Jean and Emma do it so we don't have too many guests."

Erik gave him a look from his position by the window. Charles felt like throwing his hands up, but Hank had warned him against strenuous movements.

"What else do I do with them?" he asked.

"I don't know, you could ransom them, interrogate them, something!" Erik said, "These soldiers tried to invade your school and steal your family!"

"I didn't say I wouldn't look around in their heads to see if they have any additional information," said Charles, "We have gone past niceties."

"If this is mean, I'd hate to see you when you are dealing with niceties," muttered Erik.

"You've already seen that," Charles said, "How do you think we met?"

Something glinted in Erik's eyes and, for a minute, he thought his friend was going to snort derisively. Instead, he just smiled and let out a low laugh.

"They deserve worse," said Erik.

"I try not to judge what others deserve, less I'm found less worthy of what I have," Charles said.

Erik shook his head, and the door opened. Moira walked in, her face showing signs of fatigue, but her eyes alert.

"Speaking of," Erik said, "I think I'd best get downstairs, see about giving your prisoners a cup of tea."

"I never said we give them tea," said Charles, "We have a very limited supply. Give them coffee if you must."

His friend chuckled and then walked out of the room, giving Moira a small nod as he did so. She watched him leave, watched the door close. Charles smiled at her, although he knew she couldn't see him. It was the first time they'd been alone since he woke up, without the presence of Hank or Erik or the other X-men.

Charles felt himself relax, struck yet again by just how beautiful she was. Even as she turned away from the door, her hair brushing up against her skin, he wanted to cup her cheek, give her a gentle kiss to make up for the crushing one he'd given her earlier.

"Moira-"

She squared her shoulders and walked over to his desk.

"Is...is something wrong?" he asked.

Moira yanked open one of the drawers, and his mouth went dry.

"Wait, what, no, you, I didn't mean for you to, I'm fine," he protested weakly as he watched her hands rummage through the contents, "I didn't, I honestly, you're not-"

The words died in his throat when she found the small velvet box tucked away in the corner. Although he couldn't quite make it out, he could hear the box open, heard the catch in her breath. He knew what she was seeing: a diamond ring, the stone refitted and band resized for her.

Her fingers curled around the box, clasping it between both of her hands.

"I...I...I..." Charles tried.

"How long has this been there?" she whispered.

He slumped.

"I...three days after we got you back from Scotland," he said, "I didn't know...I didn't know when to give it to you. I kept thinking of times and dates and ways...and then this happened and I..."

Charles clenched teeth and eyes together, looking away.

"I said I wanted to be there for you, and the baby, and Kevin," he said, "I told you I never wanted you to leave my life, and I saw you wanted it to. How could I not want this too?"

He saw her shoulders pull together, and although her face wasn't visible, he could see the tears gathering in his mind's eye. Charles wanted to reach out and pull her to him, but his damned legs kept him on the bed, immobile, useless.

"Love-"

"Let me see if I understand," she said, her words low, "You were going to sacrifice yourself for all of us, you were going to die, and then you wanted me to come up here and see...and see that..."

Her voice caught, choked by tears.

"I wanted you to know what you meant, what you've meant for the last twenty years, what you've always meant," Charles said, "I never wanted to lose you again and...Moira-"

"I went to tell Kevin that dinner was going to be late tonight, that you weren't feeling well," said Moira, "And when he looked up at me, worried, I realized that, if Emma hadn't gotten the defibrillators, if...if it hadn't worked, I'd be telling him that his father was dead instead."

Charles reached out his fingertips, even though he knew it was pointless. He hadn't meant for it to be this way.

"Love, please come here," he said.

He didn't know what he could do to ease the pains he felt, but he wished he could at least brush her tears away, cradle her head. She didn't move though, and his hand fell down next to him, as useless as his legs.

"Mora, I couldn't do it," he said, "I saw their minds, and I knew that...I couldn't start killing people. I couldn't give that command. And I couldn't let them come to the school. I couldn't let them get you and I couldn't face you again if I did anything else."

"Charles, I understand that!"

He blinked, startled. Moira curled in further, her hair covering her face.

"When I was in Scotland, and I went off with Emma to find Laura, I knew I might be throwing away my chance at freedom," she said, "But if I left a six-year-old behind...I couldn't bear to tell you all...I understand."

She turned away further, so her back was facing him.

"I just...your heart stopped Charles," she said, "I felt you go and, all I could think about was how unfair it was. We had the rest of our lives, and with the baby on the way, and Kevin..."

Moira shook her head.

"Charles, I told you once that you won't give up, you won't compromise who you are," she said, "And that was part of what I loved about you. But...we need you just as much as you need us. You're part of our home now Charles, our family. Can you promise that, no matter what, you'll never forget that?"

He swallowed, his hand once again reaching out desperately for her. God, how he needed her to stop crying. He bit his lip, the words coming to his tongue, a promise to do anything for her, for their sons.

They weren't words to be spoken lightly though, not in the life they lived. He knew that, if he spoke them, it was binding. Speaking the words would cement what they were, just as sacred as any marriage vow he could ever say.

He'd never wanted anything more.

"I promise," he said.

"Good," Moira said.

She put down the small velvet box on his desk, and Charles felt his heart plummet. His hand faltered in the air, but, before he could drop it, she was by his side. Without a word she slipped into the bed beside him, laying her head in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, telling himself that this, this was enough. Having her there was enough, more than he'd ever had.

Then she laid her hand on his chest, and he saw the ring there, sparkling on her finger. Tears fell from his eyes as his spare hand grasped hers.

"I take it this is a yes?" he said.

"Yes," she murmured.

He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing it and clenching his eyes shut tightly. He pulled away, and her lips replaced her hand. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her as close as he dared.

 _I love you so much,_ he said.

 _Me too,_ she whispered, _And, let's face it, you still owe me twenty years._

He laughed against her lips.

 _You can have that, and every year after that. I'm all yours Moira_ , he replied, _Until I die, and then even further.  
_

* * *

 _A/N: And that's "A Friend in Need." I have to say that two things have shocked me about this fic. The first was truly feeling the ups and downs of the story. As cheesy as it sounds, there were a few chapters where I felt myself tear up as I typed. Many of my readers have described the story as an "emotional rollercoaster." I've been riding it right along with all of you._

 _That brings me to my second, and most important surprise: reader reaction. This has been, statistically speaking, my most beloved series. However, when I go back and read the reviews, it's really touching to see just how excited you all got for each chapter of this story, how invested you were in the character, the ups and downs. Thank you all. I've said it once, I'll say it again: you all were the reason I returned to the site, and you're the reason why I decided to make this four stories._

 _In five days, I'll be coming back with the fourth and final story in the series, Bloodlines, where the baby will finally be born. And yes, there's more parent-child drama and Moira/Charles to come.  
_

 _Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, even if you just dropped a few lines anonymously. Shoutouts to Coyote Blues (Seriously go ahead and treat yourselves to "Monsters," a fic about Kurt/Mystique/Azazel), Multifangirl6,_ _Aleqiandra, Elora Donovan, knightphoenix2, jguti210, savedbygrace94, BROSMP, and KarateGirl67! I swear, your pregnancy information will be making its debut in the next fic! See you all soon!_


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